#kix: ''??????????? it worked perfectly fine???''

[robotsandramblings]

lol k k so TBB Scorch actually survives and they take him prisoner back to Rex's clone cell and find out it was his inhibitor chip all along, so they take it out and Scorch reverts completely back to a [Republic Commando] cheery silly joking version of himself

and Emerie, who has worked with this quiet ruthless no-nonsense gruff commando for years, is just like "?????? WHO THE FUCK IS THIS MAN"

[courtingchaos]

Eddie Munson x Reader (kind of?)

18+ No Minors

The meeting lets out after sunset and this time of year always makes Eddie feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs when it happens. What feels like a high noon sun disappears after two hours inside the rec center, plunging him into the winter darkness. Even with the chill people still mill around out front with their little paper cups of cheap coffee clutched in their hands while they say their long winded goodbyes. He knows they mean well and it’s good that everyone has connections but all he ever wants to do is leave after these meetings. Get in his van and drive for an hour to unwind the spool of thread that’s been spun tight around the bobbin of therapy.

You weren’t there tonight but he isn’t surprised, still misses you though. He could sense your anger mounting all last month and when you didn’t show last week he didn’t jump to a conclusion for the first time in long time. He sat through the meeting and listened to Charles and his droning calm and when he’d been let loose on the cold streets he’d made a beeline for the pay phone outside.

“Hello?”

“It’s Eddie.”

“Okay.”

A clink of a spoon on pottery, probably one of the misshapen bowls you’d made.

“I’m just checking in.” He shrugs even though you can’t see it. Keeps his tone light especially since you answered after two rings.

The improbable can’t be happening if you’re eating cereal after all.

“Did Charles ask you to call?” A snide remark followed by a crunch of what he can safely assume is Kix.

“No, I made a big boy decision all by myself.”

“Well that’s very brave of you.” Your tone suggest mocking of your group leader and Eddie huffs a laugh into the receiver.

“I figured you wouldn’t be here, but…” Eddie trails off because he isn’t going to tell you he misses you because that would suggest he’s in touch with his emotions, the very things he staunchly ignores in favor of keeping the panic attacks at bay.

“Was I so obvious?”

“A little. The storming out tends to tell people you’re a upset.”

You’re quick with your reply. “I wasn’t upset with you.”

“I know.” The cold creeps in under his layers and the flannel tied around his waist isn’t doing much to keep his lower half warm. Around him headlights swing around the faces of the buildings as everyone starts to finally head home. He tucks the phone against his shoulder so he can huff air into his palms to warm up and you must hear him.

“Are you still downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna come over? I’m just watching Happy Days reruns.” More crunching but a bowl of cereal actually sounds good right about now. He wants to say yes because he likes your couch, it’s dented in the right ways and he sinks into it every time. He also really likes your cat JD but who you call Tubs on account of him being so rotund.

“It stands for Jack Daniel, I bet you can’t guess what I was up to when I found him.”

But there’s this street light that doesn’t work right outside of your third floor apartment. Sometimes it’s perfectly fine but then some other times when he falls asleep on your too comfortable couch he wakes to a flickering. Something that seems to be Morse code, a cry for help from a sewn up dimension and it sends him into a spiral.

“I was uh, thinking about-“

“They fixed the street light.”

His pause must have been longer than he thought. “Uh, yeah I-I’m sorry about last time. I didn’t mean to swing at you-“

“I shouldn’t have just grabbed you.” You dismiss him, not unkindly, but for the umpteenth time he’s apologizing and you’ve said it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault he’d seen a petaled face in the dark of your apartment while you’d tried to calm him down. “Okay, let me rephrase this then. If you’re comfortable, the invitation is open to come have cereal with me and watch Happy Days-no wait I think it’s Bewitched now, yeah Bewitched reruns with me.”

“Oh Samantha is a weak spot for me.” Eddie drops another quarter in when he’s prompted. “I always liked that little nose wiggle.”

The silence stretches for a moment while he deliberates and you seem to move around your place. A quiet chirp tells him JD is weaving between your feet and looking for dinner and honestly, Eddie shares the feeling. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Your voice ticks up in excitement he hasn’t heard in a while from you and it makes his decision concrete.

“Yeah, I’ll be over in ten.”

Played up whooping from you ends his phone call and he only has to grip his steering wheel a little bit before he finally turns his van on and heads to your place.

He lets himself in when he gets there. A bowl for him already on your beat up coffee table and JD sitting in Eddie’s usual spot. The couch swallows him like normal and he relaxes for the first time today. You tell him you’ll be at next weeks meeting and then show him that you can also do the nose the Samantha Nose Wiggle. It makes him laugh while he digs into his second bowl of Froot Loops and the street lamp doesn’t flicker once.

[fakegingerrights]

Paint Me a Picture

[a continuation of Shades of Blue. Rex x Reader, soulmate AU. Just wanted more fluff for him in this AU]

Your head snapped up as the door to your tiny, natborn quarters slid open, revealing the shadow of your soulmate framed with the light of the hall, blinking his eyes to help them adjust to the dimmed light in your room.

“You’re back.” You tossed your datapad and stylus aside in favor of hugging your… lover? Boyfriend?

Soulmate. Soulmate for now.

Rex returned your hug, tension he didn’t even realize he had melting away as you turned on the lights and pulled him into the room proper, shutting the door behind you.

Rex holds still patiently as you look him over for injuries, smiling as even the muted greys of your quarters appeared more vibrant when he was with you.

“I’m fine, Mesh’la. Your work is solid, and nothing went too wrong my first day back in the field.” Rex glanced at your datapad. “What were you working on?”

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Just looking at some photos. I have a collection of stuff I wanted to see before we ah… discovered each other. Like that pitstop on Felucia, I have a bunch of photos of the flora and landscapes we saw. They’re really pretty.”

“Can I see? Only if you want to that is-“ You cut Rex off before his anxiety got the better of him.

“Of course, Rex. I hoped to share them with you.” You grabbed your datapad and motioned for him to sit, which he did. As you flicked through your files, he hesitantly leaned closer to look over your shoulder. You chuckled softly, initiating contact and leaning into his side. Like the first time, that stolen night in his infirmary bed, you marveled at how the two of you fit together so perfectly, hard ridges of his muscles cradled in the bony slopes of your back and ribs.

The two of you oooohed and aaaahed over the photos, admiring the intricacies of color and hue and shading in their full glory on the screen of a datapad.

Rex paused on one you had asked Kix to take of you not long after joining with the 501st. It was a viewport down on the lower decks, looking out at a nebula that had been breathtaking even in achromatic hues, and now was even more brilliant.

Blue and turquoise and gold threaded through each other made a stunning visage, as you’re grinning out the viewport as you took it all in.

"I like this one." Rex said quietly. "I think blue is my favorite color."

You hum quietly and flip to the next photo, this one of a flower you had seen on Felucia. It was a pretty white, flecked with lavender. The throat of the flower was a deep crimson red, and thick sap clung to the petals in the center. It was... disconcerting.

"I don't think I like red that much." You murmur softly, quickly slipping past the picture and fighting down images of cracked plastoid, dark blood slick like oil slipping down between your fingers and in one shining moment blazing a glorious red that still made you shudder as you fought to make sure your newly discovered soulmate's heart was beating that-

The sound of your name jolted you out of your revery.

"Hmm? Sorry. I was lost in thought." You apologized. Rex was watching you with concern in his eyes.

“Are you ok?” He asked, sliding incrementally closer as he turned the datapad off. When you didn’t pull away he looped an arm around you and let you lean against him as you got a hold of yourself.

“I don’t think I like red.” You said after a second, laying your head on his shoulder. “Your blood is red. That was the first thing I noticed.”

Rex hummed softly. “It’s eh for me. I like it when it’s with other colors, but I don’t mind it on it’s own. I like the shade of the symbol on your armor.” He commented, relaxing at the contact.

“Wanna know something funny?” He asks after a second, picking up your hand and turning it over, running a thumb across the veins in your wrist. “I thought my blood was blue for a solid week after we found each other.”

This startles you so hard you snort. “What?” You ask incredulously, pulling back to look at him. Rex flushes softly.

“Well, look.” He holds his wrist up next to yours, pointing out the bluish veins. “That’s not red, is it? I mean, I always thought my veins were red when I saw in greyscale, and then I see them in this kinda blue purple color and I was so confused- stop laughing, I’m serious!” He pokes you in the side as you wheeze, dark cloud lifting from your mood rapidly. Rex rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, I always thought these were red, because blood was red, see? And my side where it was all stitched up was bruised this blue and black color, so I go to Kix thinking that something was wrong, just for him to laugh at me too and tell me that for whatever stupid reason, the walls of our veins are darker than the blood in them and that when blood pools under your skin it can turn blueish because of extra iron and coagulation and other medical words that are definitely not in my training. But yeah, I thought my blood was blue for a while.” He huffs, then chuckles with you. “Hey, that would be pretty cool though. Bleeding Five-Oh-First blue. I could brag to Cody that I bled my battalion color.”

You’ve rolled out of his grasp at this point, laying back on your bunk as you try to catch your breath. “You-hah, you seriously thought your blood was blue?” You giggle. Rex just pouts and elbows you fondly.

“Laugh it up, sure. I’ll bet you had a color that surprised you too.” He looked at you expectantly.

You think for a second, then make a face. “I dunno… I guess I was expecting the jedi to be more colorful with how they dress. Commander Tano aside. They’re all about serenity and hope, and colors are so pretty you’d think they’d wear more of them to make others smile but instead they wear black and tan and white.”

Rex nods along. “Right? They have a whole spectrum and they choose the most boring colors. Did you know even our white armor is actually really colorful even before we paint it?” He asks. You tilt your head at him.

“No, it’s white?”

Rex is already shaking his head. “No, see the Kaminoans can see into the ultraviolet spectrum, right? So while all we see is clinical white they apparently have all of Kamino all these shades of colors we can’t see. Our armor is something like eight different colors that tell our rank and what generation we are and what batch we were in, and so on. And Kaminoans are colorful too. Kix translated some of the pictures into the visible light for us and they’re covered in stripes and spots and markings and tattoos denoting their work and achievements in all these colors only they can see.”

“Ok” You admit, “For stub nosed, stuck up slave drivers, that is kinda cool.”

Rex laughs at this. “I know, right?”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, him laying down next to you.

“You know,” You speak up after a stretch, breaking the warm stillness, “I don’t get the deal with pink.”

“Pink?” Rex looks at you, confused.

“Yeah. So apparently Pink is such a big deal to natborn girls. It’s supposed to be our favorite color and boys are supposed to like blue and I don’t get it. It’s either so desaturated it’s boring, or it’s so bright it hurts your eyes.” You complain. Rex thinks about it for a second.

“Well, I know I fall into the stereotype for liking blue, but I think pink is nice too.” He admits, looking over at you.

“Why?”

To answer your question, he leans over and kisses you. “Because that’s the color you turn when I do that.” He grins cheekily. You shove him playfully, mindful of his still healing side.

“Hey! I can’t control that! It’s a natural response when an attractive person kisses you without warning!” It’s Rex’s turn to flush, his copper skin skipping pink and going rosy red. Suddenly, Red didn’t seem like such a bad color. The blush suites him.

“I’m a clone.” He says after a moment.

“You think that having brothers who look like you makes you less attractive? If you didn’t end up being my soulmate I probably would have asked you out eventually anyways.” You admit, snuggling into his side. His arms wrap around you and it feels natural. Right. This is where you were supposed to be, with him.

“Really? Even if there was a more perfect person out there for each of us?” He asks, resting his chin on your head.

“Impossible. We would have made it work.” You say firmly. “Besides. The universe knew better than to separate us.”

“That it did.” He’s silent for a long moment, and you almost think he’s dozed off before he speaks softly. “I know it doesn’t mean much because we’re already soulmates, but I think I love you.” He whispers as you turn around in his arms so you’re pressed chest to chest.

“…My parents weren’t soulmates.” You reveal, nuzzling into the space between his shoulder and neck. “Their soulmates both died young. They always taught me whether you’re a ‘perfect’ match for a person or not, love is always a choice.” You tip your head up and kiss the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

“I like that sentiment.” Rex murmurs, fumbling for a blanket and yawning. “Can we nap for a bit?”

“Mhm. I’ll set an alarm for dinner.” You relax into his arms, enjoying this moment.

Taglist: @toomanybandstocare @backyard-bear @endo-bunny

[reader6898]

Small moments

Pairing: Kix x OC Ka'li

Summary: Ka'li hurts her ankle and Kix tends to her

Warning: cute fluff

"Kriff"

Kix looked up from his data pad and over at his partner who was currently sitting on one of the beds. Ka'li was rubbing at her left ankle and Kix was suddenly concerned.

"Cyare, is everything okay?" Ka'li looked at her lover as she set her leg down. "I'm fine, Kix." Kix raised his eyebrows at Ka'li as he sensed the lie. She wasn't any better at lying than the clones were.

"Really, Kix. I'm fine." Ka'li stood up and gritted her teeth as she put weight on her hurt ankle. She smiles through the pain to make it look convincing. "See? Perfectly fine." Kix continues to stare as he still doesn't believe her.

"Bring me those bacta patches next to you." Crap. Okay, she could do this. Ka'li grabs the patches and takes a deep breath. 'You could do this, Ka'li. All you have to do is bring Kix the patches and show him that you're okay', she thought to herself.

Ka'li steps forward but the minute she puts weight on her ankle she starts to crumble. Kix makes his way over quickly and catches her before she landed on her ass.

"Alright, mesh'la, let's sit you down and take a look at that ankle." "But-" "No buts. You're clearly in pain and you know how much I don't like seeing you like that." Ka'li sighs. Kix was right. He did always hate it when she was hurt. "Fine."

Kix sets her back down on the bed and pulls up a chair before placing her leg in his lap. Kix carefully takes off Ka'li's shoe and she winces a little. "Sorry, Cyar'ika." Kix then takes off her sock and looks at her ankle which was swollen and already different colors.

"May I ask how you hurt yourself?" Ka'li stayed silent and Kix sighed. He knew how stubborn she could get sometimes and while he wanted to know how she could've possibly hurt herself he didn't push it. Besides, his dikut brothers were probably involved so he didn't want to know

Kix looked at her ankle once more real quick before setting it down on his leg. "Well, it's not broken. It looks like you just twisted it. I'm going to give you something for the pain and then wrap it up. I'm placing you on rest for a week."

"A week! Come on, Kixie. A sprained ankle should be healed in a few days not a week. Besides, you're losing one of your best medics." Kix grabbed a stint and injected it into Ka'li's leg. "Ow! A little warning next time." Ka'li rubbed at her leg as Kix started to wrap up her sprained ankle.

"As your boss I'm ordering you on bed rest until your ankle is healed but as your boyfriend I just want you to get better, cyare." Kix finishes wrapping up Ka'li's ankle and sets it down on his leg again.

"what if you need me?" Kix smiles. "I think me and the others can handle it." Ka'li sighs in defeat. "Okay." Kix took her hands in his and kissed her palms. "Thank you " Ka'li rolled her ankle and winces a little bit luckily the meds were starting to work their magic.

"Can you kiss my ankle? You know so that it can get better faster?" Kix laughed. "Of course, mesh'la." Kix lifted her leg and kissed Ka'li's ankle. "Better?" Ka'li looked at her ankle. "Maybe just one more for good luck." Kix smiles before placing another kiss in her ankle. Better now?" Ka'li smiles. "Much."

It was the small moments like this that Kix was grateful to enjoy with Ka'li and he wouldn't change a thing

Tagging: @anxiouspineapple99 @techs-stitches @trixie2023 @rexxdjarin @the-rain-on-kamino @dystopicjumpsuit @vodika-vibes @sev-on-kamino @deejadabbles @clonethirstingisreal @arctrooper69 @freesia-writes @eternal-transcience @cw80831 @starrylothcat @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @moonlightwarriorqueen @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness

[rexxdjarin]

I love your writing and thots 🥵

One bed trope or needing to fake date on a mission with Din, Boba or any clone and reader? Spicy or not but maybe enemies to lovers? 🥺

If you’ve already written similar, please let me know I neeeeeed to check it out!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Bby thank you so much 🥺💙 it means a lot to me when people compliment my work and my writing. It truly goes a long way.

Be sure to check out my masterlist in my bio for all the work I’ve written !!! I’m going to write a clone bby I’ve surprisingly never written for before 😉

“I cannot believe there was only one bed left.” You huffed in annoyance, laying on the last makeshift cot on the far side of base camp. You weren’t originally supposed to be on this mission so it was technically on you. It wasn’t Kix’s fault that Skywalker demanded he tend to an off the book injury he had caused himself.

You were the only available medic for the scout squad made up of Jesse, Tup and, the bane of your existence, Fives. The devilishly handsome, boisterous and extraverted arc trooper of the bunch.

“C’mon, gorgeous…I’m not that bad of a bunk mate.” Fives argued from the other side of the stack of pillows wedged between you to make a sizable enough division.

“Of the three of you, you are the loudest one, Fives. So help me…if you snore for even 5 seconds, I’m suffocating you with these pillows.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your portion of the blankets over your side.

Fives laughed from right beside you and slowly crept his foot over to kick your calf muscle. “Oh please, you’re the one taking all the blankets. You’re lucky you make me laugh so much or I’d be mad at you.”

You sighed and shoved a pillow down on top of him starting an avalanche of shitty republic supplied sleeping materials on top of him. “Warm enough, now, Fives?” You giggled.

“Nope.” He declared muffled beneath all the layers. “This planet gets cold at night, you know. Protocol is that we sleep close together to share body heat under the standard issue shit we’re given.”

Unfortunately for myself, he was right. That was technically the right thing to do in a situation like this. But doing so would be very uhm- compromising for you. Because despite your best efforts and medic’s intuition and logic, you were unfathomably attracted to the clever fucking arc trooper.

And not knowing what it was about him that made you want him so bad made you unreasonably angry. Maybe it was that focused, driven, raw talent of his. His ability to motivate anyone. The strength of his compassion for other lifeforms and for his work. His happy go lucky, constantly joking attitude despite the world of pain and struggle they endured everyday. He was just perfect. And you hated it.

He was naturally good at everything. And you weren’t. You worked twice as hard as everyone and still you struggled. You were a gifted medic, probably the best available behind their brother, but only because you’d worked yourself to the bone to get there. He was everything you wished you could be naturally and he didn’t even know it. Didn’t know the power he had or how it effected you. He was painfully oblivious.

He flirted with everyone and everything. Everyone was gorgeous to him and he made it a point of telling them so. But because you knew him so well, whenever he called you that it just didn’t feel special or unique to you. You had a hard time believing he meant it for you. Even as badly as you wished he did.

But it was cold. You didn’t want either of you to freeze. You groaned, “fine. come here.” You shifted the pillows and felt him scoot in behind you. He was warm. Firm and strong in all the right ways. The scent of him made your eyes cross. It was intoxicating just like everything else about him. The same magnetic, alluring energy he had seemed to grace every single thing about him.

“Ahhh.” He sighed in relief, “finally. Thank you. My teeth were chattering.” Which had to be a fucking lie. He seemed perfectly toasty to you. “Now if you wanted to get into bed with me…all you had to do was ask.” He joked.

“Fives!” You shouted, trying desperately to hide just how much that comment sent chills down your spine. Because if he really meant that then…well…you might have a chance. Maybe it wasn’t all in your head. “Don’t..don’t say that.”

“Say what?” He feigned ignorance, resting his head on his pillow and folding his arms across his chest.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. Not even as a joke.” You muttered, the sternness you practiced in your head coming out more like a whisper.

He sat himself up on one elbow and cocked his head at me, clearly taken aback. “Who said I was joking?”

You gulped. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. “Fives…you always say nice things like that to everyone. You can’t always mean it.”

“Absolutely I do.” He said sounding offended. “I feel like people should be told when they look nice or have a good vibe or whatever. Is that a crime?”

You took a deep breath before finding the strength to turn around and face him so closely. “You say it to me and don’t mean it all the time.”

He scoffed, his jaw quirking as he looked up at every planet shining in the sky above you. “Cyar’ika…I especially mean it when I’m talking to you.” He raised his hand to nervously run his fingers through his hair. “I’d been wondering why it’s taken you so long to notice, actually.” He looked up at you like a sad kicked tooka and bite his lower lip, maybe for the first time realizing he was struggling to say what he really meant. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear.”

You blinked probably five hundred times, absorbing the shock of him revealing he did actually find you attractive. His feelings did match yours. “So…” you stuttered, trying desperately to find the right words to say. “S-so you did want to share a bed with me.” You smirked at him.

He fished around in his pocket before pulling out the straw he drew earlier that he’d very obviously broken in half. “Oh yeah. I broke this in pieces just to make sure.” He laughed, “pretty low. I know. I thought you didn’t like me so I dunno. I guess I thought this was the best way to get you to talk to me.”

The way the moonlight was bouncing across his face, the way the shadows made him seem even more brooding and intense than usual. He looked so…pretty. You just wanted to…

And before you knew it, you were leaning in and pressing your lips to his. It was slow and sweet, like you both had been wanting to enjoy it for some time. His hand cupped your cheek and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss and letting your tongue slip inside to meet his.

You pulled away slowly, leaving him in a confused yet completely thrilled haze. “Go to sleep, Fives. We’ll talk in the morning.” You smiled like an idiot as you turned over and felt his protective arm curl around your waist to tuck you into him. After all, you did have to keep warm.

[dragonrider9905]

No One Outranks the Medic

Hey @imabeautifulbutterfly! I know this fic is short and hastily written, so it may not be the best, but I wanted to do something to put a smile back on your face. I hope you feel better soon! Just a small gift. I hope you enjoy it. (I'll put the link to Ao3 tomorrow, it's getting really late where I am so I need to head to bed for work tomorrow. Just wanted to get this to you though!!!!) 🤗

Warning: medics getting pushy

Summery: Wolffe, Rex, and Fox get injured and come down with a nasty flu. Their respective medics decide to have a field day with it, using whatever means necessary to treat their uncooperative patients.

“Rex, your medic is the worst.” Fox grumbled with a slur, sloppily pulling the sheets over his head. He thought he could disappear from view that way. That Kix wouldn’t find him again. Silly him.

“Don’t I know it.” Rex rubbed his forehead. “But I can’t say he’s worse than yours. Blaze is a kriffing nightmare.” 

“If you two don’t be quiet, they’ll come in and check on us again. I don’t fancy seeing any of our medics anytime soon.”

“That’s because you’re so grumpy your medic has to out-grumpy you Woofe.” Rex sniffed and wiped his nose. “I can’t ah ah *ahchew!* imagine why they have to be so mean. We’re stellar patients.”

“Riiiiiiight, Captain, that’s why we caught you getting out of bed twice?” Blackeye tapped his foot impatiently, arms crossed and signature look of annoyance on his face.

Whoops. When did he come in?!?!?

“Hey, Torrent Company is a ‘and fu-ll. -Ou shuld ty i-it som time. I need a Copany to go ba’ to.” Rex’s stuffy nose grew more annoying by the minute, he rubbed it furiously till it was bright red. “Fives set fire to the barracks last time trying to barbecue after hours…I sound worse than it is. I’m fine really, Blackeye. I’m perfectly fine. If you could sign off on my release papers…”

Kix walked in.

“Shoot.” Rex mumbled and moved to hide like Fox was. “Go away and le’ me die in peace.”

“No way, Cap. Let me see that shoulder of yours.”

Rex burrowed further. 

“Ooooor do I have to sedate you again?”

Rex flipped a flap down to let his angry displeased glare of displeasure and disappointment show.

“You wouldn’t.” The words came out low and gravelly.

“Oh I would.”

With a roll of his eyes, Rex presented his arm. With a smirk, Kix got to work changing the bandage.

“Why are we getting picked on and not Fox? No fair.”

“Oh he is next.” Blaze cut in, making his entrance. “Sorry, Commander, no caff. It’s not good to mix that with your flu medicine. It’ll make your stomach upset. Again. And I’m not cleaning up your sick for the second time after you retrieve some from your secret stash. So I swiped it! No more secret runs. You’ll get some sleep for once.”

“I’ll take my chances.” The mound under the sheets spoke. “Give me caff or give me death.”

“Neither is an option, Sir.”

Fox groaned. “That’s an order. You can’t do that.”

Blackeye grinned. “Oh yes he can. Wanna know why?” 

“No.” Wolffe growled, crossing his arms over his chest so his medic couldn’t get to his chest wound.

“We’ll, you’re going to hear it anyway.” Blaze chuckled.

“No one, I mean absolutely no one, outranks the medic!” Kix clearly was enjoying his moment of glory and vindication too much. 

Blaze ripped the blanket off Fox. “Let me see your side, Sir….why are you lying on it? You’ll make it worse.” 

“Not having caff makes it worse.”

“I’ll cut off your supply for however long I want, even after you recover, if you don’t cooperate.”

Fox whined in complete despair, face down in his pillow. “Nooooooooooo.”

He rolled over but brought the pillow with him, to keep his face covered. “No one is allowed to see a grown Commander cry. Because we don’t cry. We’re fine. Right fellas? I’m not crying. Crying is for cadets.” Fox muffled.

“Right, tears are unbeknownst to us—ow!” 

“Oh dear I think you’re already going through caff withdrawal. Not cool.” Blaze shook his head.

Meanwhile, Wolffe glared down his medic, trying to get at his chest.

“Do you want me to tell Plo’buir you’re being uncooperative? You’ll make him sad and disappointed and worried. Do you want to do that to Plo’buir?”

“That’s low.” 

“I can go lower.” 

Wolffe lowered his arms right away.

“Wimp.”

“Shut up, Rex. You’ve never experienced General Koon’s look of disappointment. I don’t think General Skywalker was dissatisfied with you ever so you don’t have that look to compare it to either, not that it’s anything close.” 

“General Koon is never displeased with you, only when you don’t take care of yourself, and that’s fair.” Blackeye shrugged, unconcerned. 

“Okay, you all need some rest.” Kix stretched his muscles. “We’ll be back later, so behave. Relax. Don’t worry about anything other than getting better.”

“No, we need to get back to work. A Captain’s and Commanders’ work is never done.” 

“You need to go nighty night.” 

“No.”

“Do we really need to pound you and blackmail you into self care? Why must you make our lives so—“ Blaze was cut off by Fox.

“Entertaining?”

“I was going to use a different word. You bunch are a—“

“Delight?”

“Again, not the word I was going to use.” 

“Now that your bandages are changed, your medicine taken and general checkup complete …” Blackeye started.

The three patients simultaneously threw their blankets over their heads, while the medics sighed and gave each other looks. More specifically, the ‘why us’ look.

“We’ll get you hot chocolate.” 

“We promise.”

“We won’t forget our favorite patients.” 

“Aww we’re the favorites?” Fox sniffed and grinned under the sheets.

Rex peaked out suspiciously, “Tank you, Kix.”

“I take back all those nasty things I said about you. And all the things I didn’t say, just thought. You’re the best.” Wolffe reappeared with a grin. 

“We know.”

“But, how will you get your hands on some? That’s top stuff….no one is allowed to access the stuff.” Rex said despondently.

“It’ll make you feel better so we’ll take the shot.”

“No one normal, maybe, but…”

“Remember, no one outranks the medic. Now go to sleep and get some rest!”

The general groan was translated to ‘yes sir’.

The medics nodded satisfactorily. Another job well done. Their testy but lovably leaders would live to fight another day.

[riftsong]

Pettralius is an alien from my Crew X setting, and a member of the main crew. They specialize in weapons and weapon repair.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

NAME: Pettralius Kix Vaxhavastion ALIASES: Pett, Petty, the scary one SPECIES: Usually called "XB Runners", "Frillhorses", or "Frillnecks" by those who don't speak the native tongue. PRONOUNS: Any

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ HISTORY Pettralius is an alien hailing from a small planet dubbed "XB-8570" in the general database, with the true name unable to be typed in human letters. They were raised to a rather fancy family in the Eastern part of the Xgyro continent, and was close childhood friends with Sol, another sapient species from the same planet. Sol's species are closely related- often still called "Frillnecks" by other species since they don't bother to distinguish the two species, or if there's an effort made, "Long Frillnecks" or "Frillsnakes". Despite the fact that those who aren't familiar with their species might not make the distinction, on-planet, there is heavy bias against Frillsnakes by their cousins. Both Sol and Pett were interested in advanced technological subjects, but Sol ended up being denied into the same program as Pett on account of this bias. Fed up with it, they both decided to pool funds and try to seek education off-planet. That is where they accidentally ran into a human, osimian, fishbird, and faenae who ended up roping them into accidetnally escaping with a harbored fugitive; and until they can figure it out, they remain on the run with the rest of the crew.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ PERSONALITY Pett, despite their often cute and googly-eyed appearance, is a serious, take-no-bullshit kind of person. She often comes off as rough or abrasive, not afraid to speak her mind and make her opinion known. She's quick with her wit and quick with her tongue and guns alike, and isn't afraid to use them. Unlike some other members of the crew, she's perfectly fine with defending herself with weapons as opposed to words- though maybe it's just because it's her specialty. Though technically lacking the full degree due to the current drama, Pett is a masterful weapons and mechanical technician, who had hoped to work on a ship like this one day- though perhaps not quite in this situation. You can usually find her tinkering away at the weapons system onboard the ship, her own personal collection of guns and other such devices, and other various machines onboard the ship. However, despite his often mean-appearing demeanor, he's not truly mean on the inside- he truly does care about others, even if he has difficulty showing it. Just because he's only visibly soft with Sol doesn't mean he doesn't have little ways of showing affection to the rest of his crew. If you find yourself getting a custom-built taser thrust into your hands on account of "you need SOMETHING to to keep yourself from dying, as tough as it might be for you."... that's not an insult, that's a declaration of friendship.

[gospelofme]

Father-Son Retreat

The Forest moon of Endor hosted a retreat for fathers with their sons once a year. It was a two-week long bonding experience, or at least that’s what the brochure said. Jesse and his son Kasen already had a strong bond, but they signed up for it anyways for the experience. He coaxed Kix and Fives into signing up as well. He had asked Rex but the Captain immediately replied “absolutely not” and brought up the LandNav exercise incident.

“What are the odds that will happen again?” Jesse reasoned. The silence from his Captain was deafening.

The packing list was clear: extra clothing, good hiking boots, survival gear (water filtration devices, rations, first aid kit, bug spray), and a “sense of adventure”.

“This will be a peace of cake. We’re grouped up and we are dropped in the middle of nowhere Endor and we have to find our way back to the retreat center. Easy!” Fives said as he and Jesse checked the full retreat details.

“Kix, you’ll bring the first aid crap right?” Jesse asked the medic.

“Duh, you’d probably just pack a single bacta patch.” Kix replied.

“If that, rubbing dirt on it works just fine.”

“Well, soil does activate a blood protein known as a coagulation Factor XII.” Kix answered.

“Nerd.” Fives smirked.

Fives, Jesse, and Kix along with their sons were all dropped off at the spaceport by their families.

“Kasen, don’t lose dad alright? He’s the only one we got and he’s not that bad.” Sarion said as she stood on the platform with her arms crossed.

“I’ll try not to, but he likes to wander.” Kasen replied to his sister. They watched as their parents said goodbye.

“Remember to reapply this every 4 hours! I don’t want my baby coming back crispy.” Jesse’s Twi’lek wife instructed, handing her husband a bottle of sunblock. Jesse then handed that to Kix because he knew he’d lose it.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t go too?” Louise said as her father, Kix, hugged her.

“Because it’s just for me and Jesse. You’ll have fun with mommy and your sister Kaia okay? Maybe mommy will taze someone.” Kix said, looking over at his Coruscant Police Detective wife. It looked like her hug was squeezing their son to death.

“Is Tevyn coming buddy?” Fives asked his son Dar, his wife had said imaginary friends were perfectly normal…no matter how creepy.

“No, he said he doesn’t like it on Endor, so he’s staying with mommy.” Dar said. Fives looked over at his wife who’s smile looked more like a cringe.

“Oh, why is that?” Fives asked, straightening the straps on his son’s pack so the weight sat evenly on his back.

“Because he died there.” Dar replied casually, then he quickly hurried off to go talk with his cousins.

“What the fuuuuuuuuuuck!?” Fives mouthed to his wife.

“It’s fine.” His wife mouthed back.

On the transport, the kids all sat in their own row. Dar and Kasen watched as Jesse played a game on his tablet. Fives, Jesse, and Kix sat in the row across the aisle from them.

“I still don’t understand why I have to be Big Jesse and him Little Jesse.” Jesse complained.

“Uh, because you’re bigger?” Kix replied.

“But what about cooler code names? Like Zillo Slayer and Mynock Eater?” Jesse pitched.

“Or Old Jesse and Young Jesse.” Kix countered. Jesse decided the original names worked fine.

“I still don’t know why you named your son after Jesse.” Fives said. Kix shrugged, there were days he didn’t know either.

Travel from Coruscant to Endor took roughly a week. They had booked rooms all close to each other, but still separate so they had their own space. Thankfully each room had a way to do laundry and food for the trip was provided by the transport so they didn’t have to use rations. They had all discussed with their sons about how this trip was going to be roughly a month. A week there, two weeks on Endor, then a week back. But everyone was up for the challenge and it was only once a year. That week was filled with cousins bonding but also learning and preparing for the obstacles ahead.

Fives took a deep breath in, then exhaled audibly.

“Ahhh, smell that fresh forest air!” He exclaimed. The kids all agreed that Endor did smell much different from Coruscant. They sat at a picnic area where the retreat was to begin. They were surrounded by other father-son pairs of numerous different species. They were grouped up, you had the option of making your group at sign up or randomly being assigned. Jesse made sure that he, Fives, and Kix were all grouped with their kids. A Zabrak father and son were added to their group as well. The civilian father was surprised to be sorted into a group with three clones but wasn’t upset by any means.

“I’m an accountant so I don’t have much wilderness experience.” He explained, introducing himself as Grak. His son, Bren, got along well with Dar, Jesse, and Kasen.

“Oh, maybe you can teach Big Jesse math.” Fives teased, Jesse pouted.

“It’s not my fault they keep changing it.” Jesse muttered.

It wasn’t long until their group was loaded into a small transport and deposited out in the middle of the vast Endor forest. They had been given a compass and a flimsi map of the area. A small dot marked their target location. They had to map their own location and then navigate to the retreat’s ending location.

“Alright boys, listen up!” Fives took charge, Jesse and Kix stared at him.

“We need to make our rations last two weeks. Grak brought some dried meats, fruits, and vegetables. I brought the selection of gourmet military ration sticks. We should be fine if we are careful.”

“Uhm, Mr?” Bren raised his hand.

“You can call me Fives.”

“Uhm, Mr. Fives, sir, what if we do happen to run out of food?”

“Well, son…there are the locals….”

“No Fives, we are not hunting any Ewoks!” Kix cut in sternly. Kix shook his head as Fives nodded his head.

“There are plenty of edible roots, plants, and fruits as well as fish we can catch.” Kix assured the kids.

Thus began a very interesting retreat.

@thatonegreyghost @jgvfhl @owls-spice-cabinet

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

Danny Phantom

Something's Wrong With Danny Fenton by Perfectly_Inconspicuous

Danny Fenton. The enigma of Casper High. It's the first day of the winter semester when she notices him. She notices him for what feels like the first time. Maybe because at this point he's the only alternative kid other than her. Or maybe because boom, there he is: the locker next to hers. -- A No One Knows AU where Danny transfers from a different school to Casper during Junior year and ends up befriending Sam and Tucker. Written for Invisobang 2021!

Interview With a Ghost by Marsalias

Part 3 of Exhumed

Agreeing to an interview with the detectives is probably a bad idea.

He's still going to do it, though.

Star Wars/The Mandalorian

Of Ink, Succulents, and Blushes by ShyOwl

(Tattoo Studio/Flower Shop AU)

Luke just wanted to keep to his shop of plants and flowers. He was fine working and hanging out with his friends and avoiding the absolutely gorgeous new business owner down the street who just opened up an incredibly popular tattoo studio. He would be perfectly fine to avoid the man and ensure he never knew Luke existed.

Unfortunately, his friend Lando has decided this will not do and Luke has to get around the man asap.

When Din sees Luke he is instantly in agreement.

Under a Shimmer of Sunlight by ShyOwl

The Jedi lost the Mandalorian war. Luke, born with strong Force abilities, was smuggled out to Tatooine as protection before the mandatory registration act was enforced and all Force-users became property of the Mandalorian society.

Twenty-years later, Luke, orphaned and alone, is finally discovered by the expanding Mandalorian Empire and, after a discovery of his very special powers, is presented as a gift to the feared Mand’alor.

He did not know what he expected…but becoming the complete focus and fond favorite of the king was a surprise.

Clone Wars

Come In With The Rain by stolen_pen_name23

Obi-Wan and his men are trapped on a desolate planet and they are running out of hope and supplies in equal measure.

Whumptober prompt: Hunger

Keep My Wanting Small by dharmaavocado

Kenobi had cut her hair short, and Rex was so surprised she nearly walked into a wall.

In which much ado is made about hair and the styling thereof.

Thumbnail by simethjng

In the midst of the Clone Wars, General Obi-Wan Kenobi gets turned into a child, aging up a year every day. This leads to a true miracle in the Star Wars universe: open and honest communication.

Battle of Wills by BigFatBumblebee

Mid-way through the Clone Wars their beloved General is a bit of a mess. But Cody, Kix and the rest of the 212th are going to look after him, even if it kills them. Can snarkiness actually kill? Cody hopes not or they don’t stand a chance.

[jgvfhl]

Im Memoriam

Howdy this is yet another one of Owlie's Fives Is Perfectly Fine fanfictions. Please enjoy!

Summary: After the Clone Wars have officially ended, the Senate commissions a memorial to be built on Coruscant honoring the men who fought and died for the Republic. Echo realizes he hasn't dealt with certain things as well as he'd hoped. ~6K words

Warning: There is some description of a panic attack in here, so if that's not for you, please go explore other works in my (unofficial) Fives Is Perfectly Fine Collection on my Ao3 page. Take care of yourselves!

Looking up from the obstacle course of scattered parts and equipment he and Tech had created, Echo flipped up his eyeshield and waited. He was pretty sure he’d heard Hunter call his name, but with the noise these tools made, it was impossible to be certain.

“You need me, Serge?” he called back after several seconds of silence. Tech had helpfully paused his own work.

“Yeah, Rex is on the line, it’s for you,” came the response.

“Be there in a bit,” he replied. Turning to Tech, he said, “I’ll be back, I guess,” as he took off the eyeshield and rearranged his right limb into something more hand-like. Tech made a noise of acknowledgement, then powered up his welder again.

When he got to the cockpit of the Marauder, sure enough, there was Rex’s little blue hologram hovering above the control panel. “Hey, Echo.”

“Hi, Rex. What do you need?”

“It’s about the memorial they’re putting up on Coruscant–the one for the clones.”

Echo nodded. “What about it?” He glanced at Hunter, who just shrugged. After the survey he’d gotten to help decide which of the 501st’s fallen soldiers to honor on the GAR memorial, no one in the Bad Batch had heard anything, it seems.

“Well, they need experts,” Rex said. He was trying to play this as a casual conversation, but he was not succeeding. Something about it had him uneasy. “The designers want to make sure they’ve got the blueprints right before construction begins, so they’re asking us to send in someone to make sure they’re on the right track.”

Echo frowned slightly. “For the statues?”

“Yeah, just to… y’know, make them look right. All the battalions are sending someone, from what I gather. I… figured you’d want to go, since–well, since we found out who they chose.”

He nodded slowly. The Bad Batch were only a few hours’ flight from Coruscant, patching up after a short mission before heading back, so it wouldn’t be much effort. “Yeah.”

Rex paused, shifting on his feet. “Yeah, you’ll go, or…?”

Echo nodded more firmly. “I’ll go. Gotta make sure he looks like a proper idiot for future generations, right?” Despite the attempt at humor, the words almost caught in his throat. He had a bad feeling about this.

If Rex noticed, he didn’t mention it, thank the Maker. “Yeah, something like that,” he said with a small smile. “I’m still around, so I’ll see you when you land. I’m sure Jess and Kix will want to say hi too.”

“Yeah, I look forward to it,” Echo replied. Rex gave another little wave or salute, then the transmission ended.

Hunter looked up at him from one of the pilots’ chairs. “Heading to Coruscant, then, yeah?”

Echo took a breath and nodded. “Looks like it. I’ll let the others know.”

-scene break-

Echo had never been to the Jedi Temple before. He wasn’t entirely sure why this meeting was taking place here, but perhaps it had something to do with the Jedi having a better reputation with the clones than the Senate did. The Senate had been the ones to commission the memorial, but the Jedi had fought and died alongside the clones on the field. But, then again, the Jedi were offering the space for it, outside in one of the public gardens.

He shoved down another pang of anxiety as he continued up the steps, following the group of multicolored clones on the same mission. It was certainly something to see this many battalions represented in the same place. Some colors, Echo had never seen in person before, like the Nova Corps. He felt a little odd, being there in grey and red, not blue and white, but he’d made that choice months ago.

Why was he so nervous about this whole thing? Glancing around, it didn’t look like anyone else was bothered. A few clones were talking quietly with each other. The task was simple, was it not? Go in, look at a drawing someone had made, tell them the goatee needed to look just stupid enough, that the grin needed to be cockier, then he could go. So why couldn’t he shake this feeling of unease? It was the same feeling that came after avoiding one ambush, yet knowing there were more out there. Waiting.

He hated it.

“Welcome, troopers.” Echo looked up, and some of the anxiety dispersed upon seeing General Ti at the doors. He suspected that was purposeful, on the part of the Jedi. General Windu stood next to her silently. “Thank you all very much for agreeing to help in the design of the GAR memorial. Please, follow Master Windu.”

Echo saw Commander Neyo of the 91st Recon Battalion fall in step beside his former general. Old habits really did die hard. Especially the genetically programmed ones. Even if the Jedi had stepped down from their military positions now the war was over, the clones were finding it hard to shake the instinctual need to follow them.

General–well, he supposed he should call her Master Ti waited at the doors as the men filed past her. Echo was towards the back of the group, and he was surprised to see her features light up with recognition as he approached.

“Echo, what a pleasant surprise,” she said.

Masking his own surprise, he dipped his chin, resisting the urge to salute. “Master Ti. I’m… surprised you recognized me.”

She gave a knowing smile as she started walking with him, bringing up the rear of the group. “Your signature in the Force has not changed as dramatically as your physical appearance has.”

Right. Jedi stuff. “Of course.”

“I see you have transferred to Clone Force Ninety-Nine,” she said, and again, he struggled not to gape at her for a second. Of course she knew about them.

“Yes, ma’am. I transferred soon after I was rescued from Skako Minor.” He was finding it difficult to maintain a casual conversation while passing through some of the most spectacular architecture he had ever seen. Lofty ceilings, huge stone pillars, doorways upon doorways leading off to countless hallways and rooms–the Jedi Temple was enormous. He caught some of the clones ahead of him craning their necks back to look around.

Master Ti barely noticed. “It would make Ninety-Nine happy to know one of Domino Squad is working with those four,” she went on. “He doted on them as cadets.”

Echo nodded. He’d had a couple conversations with the Bad Batch about Ninety-Nine. The chit chat usually stagnated once it got to the part where he’d died in Echo’s arms on Kamino. He chose to omit that from this conversation. “Yes, I’m sure he’d be thrilled just to know one of Domino Squad actually stayed alive this long. Rishi Moon didn’t give us the best head start in that regard.”

Maybe he was just used to the slightly morbid, dark humor most clones shared. With other clones, that would have drawn a few chuckles, but it only made a shadow fall briefly over her face. “No,” she agreed, “it did not.” There was a pause in which Echo silently berated himself for murdering the conversation yet again, then Master Ti extended a hand and said, “We’re here.”

The room into which the Jedi had led them was elliptical, and large enough to comfortably accommodate the several dozen troopers gathered there. Large arched windows ran around two thirds of its perimeter, and there was a large crate at one end holding cushions to sit on, if Echo had to guess. A holotable stood in the middle of the room, slightly off center, and what Echo quickly recognized as blueprints already hovered above it. A rodian man and a pair of ithorians stood next to it, having a hushed conversation as they turned the hologram this way and that.

Master Windu and Master Ti made their way to the three individuals by the table, then Master Windu turned to the clones gathered and spoke.

“These are the architects designing the memorial that will be built in honor of the soldiers who fought and died in this war. They’ve created holographic blueprints of the memorial, as well as scale models of all the men your battalions have nominated.”

One of the ithorians lifted a create from the floor onto the edge of the table. Echo hadn’t been able to see it past the troopers in front of him.

“We asked you all here to look at both of these and give your feedback. This memorial is honoring your brothers. We want to make sure it is as accurate as it can be.”

With that, he nodded to the ithorian with the crate, and they began handing small figurines to the rodian, who then called the battalion or legion number, and the trooper representing that group came forward to collect it.

The feeling of unease that had been plaguing him since receiving the transmission from Rex was worsening by the second. It seemed the figurines were ordered by battalion number, which meant he had some time to wait, but he just couldn’t shake this feeling. He suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten as much for breakfast as he had.

A gentle tap on his vambrace brought his attention back to himself. “Hey, Echo.”

He blinked. “Oh. Hey, Boil. How’d uh…”

Boil caught the unasked question. “Cody mentioned you’d transferred. And I didn’t see any royal blue paint around. Figured someone had to be here. Makes sense it’d be you.”

“Right.” He turned to look at the rodian handing out figurines again, then realized he hadn’t asked an obvious question. “Who are you here for?”

Boil’s mustache twitched when one corner of his mouth raised slightly. “Waxer. Who else?”

Echo nodded after a moment. He’d only run a few missions with the 212th before the Citadel, but he did remember Rex and Cody making plenty of jokes about each having their own pair of inseparable troublemakers. Not so inseparable, it seemed. “I didn’t know he’d died,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Boil gave another strained smile, turning his helmet in his hands to examine a small painting of a twi’lek girl on its side. “Yeah,” he said. “Umbara. You weren’t there. It’s alright you didn’t know.”

That was understandable. No one in either battalion liked to talk about Umbara. Echo had coaxed bits and pieces out of Rex and Jesse, so he knew about the firing squad, and Hardcase blowing up the supply ship just like Hevy, and about the trap that forced the two groups to fire on each other. But the bare bones was about all he’d gotten. Kix and Coric wouldn’t say anything other than calling it a bloodbath. He wouldn’t press Boil about what had happened.

After a few moments, the rodian called for the 212th, and Boil made his way through the troopers in front of them towards the center of the room. Echo took a glance around the room. They were only about a quarter of the way through the battalions, but he could already see a trooper in 41st green wiping his cheeks roughly with his free hand as he held onto his figurine with the other. A closer look around revealed more than a few troopers doing the same. He felt his heart rate tick up just a bit more.

Boil returned seconds later, turning over his figurine in his hands. He stood next to Echo and held it out so they could both see. It was made of some kind of plastoid–not dissimilar to their armor, a little longer than the length of Boil’s hand, and painted with the battalion’s colors just as it had been on Waxer. He stood at rest, feet slightly apart, helmet under his left arm, facing straight ahead. The golden orange paint and the dot of black for the soul patch were the only colors on the otherwise white figure, but even so, Echo could see the detail was incredible.

“Huh.” He looked at Boil. His eyes had glossed over, and his mouth was pressed in a thin line, as if both a smile and a frown were tugging on it at the same time. Eventually, he sniffed, blinking away the threatening waterworks, and cleared his throat. “It’s good, I’ll give ‘em that. Paint’s just about spot on.” Turning the figure in his hand, he tapped the helmet with a finger. “Gonna need to add Numa to the bucket though.” For reference, he brought up his own helmet, turning it so the twi’lek girl’s face was clearly visible. “Waxer’d kick my ass next time he saw me if she wasn’t on there.” He nodded to himself, then added, much quieter, “And he’d want to be smiling.”

He studied the figure silently after that, and Echo had nothing to add, so he was silent with him. More troopers walked up to the rodian to receive a miniature, and more and more, Echo saw men struggling to keep their composure as they examined them. That nervousness in his gut grew sharper. He still didn’t really know why it was there in the first place.

Finally, the rodian picked up a figure and called for the 501st. His deep indigo eyes roamed the crowd until they found Echo as he made his way forward.

He gave Echo a once-over, looking between him and the figurine. “Five-oh-first?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

It was then Echo noticed the room had gone largely quiet. There was only the occasional sniffle as the whole room focused on him. He looked down at his red and grey armor, understanding the designer’s hesitation. “Yeah, I’m here for the five-oh-first,” he said, very aware of how well his voice carried from this point in the room. He held out his remaining hand for the figurine. “I’m… I’m his batchmate.”

A ripple of whispers circled the room as the rodian nodded and handed him the figurine. Echo could understand the attention, even if he hated it. The former chancellor’s assassination had been plastered all over the holonews and holonet for months, not including the subsequent investigation. From what Echo had gathered, people were just as eager to speculate on the evil Sith Lord Palpatine as they were to theorize about the assassin being shot out of Coruscant’s atmosphere and killed.

It was one of the few reasons Echo appreciated wearing red and grey, not blue and white. He’d watched Rex, Kix, and Jesse fend off reporters and other brothers left and right for months, all begging for more information about what had happened. He thought that if any of them had figured out who he was and had started asking questions about the “ARC turned assassin,” he might have throttled them.

Echo didn’t look at the figurine as the designer handed it to him. He took it, turned away, and made his way back through the crowd of very attentive troopers back to Boil. The feeling of that many eyes on him was oppressive. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle like he’d just walked through a high-powered scanner.

Boil nudged his arm again. “How’s it look?” he asked quietly.

He finally uncurled his fingers from around the figure, and looked.

It was the same pose as Waxer’s figure, one hand behind the back, the other curled around his helmet. The helmet was emblazoned with a remarkably clear Rishi eel design–tiny red eyes and tongue included, despite the small scale. The blue paint on his kama, vambraces, and boots was that slightly lighter blue he’d found Maker knows where and grown so attached to. Black and grey pauldrons, each color over the correct shoulder. His hair was painted black, his goatee was painted black and just the right shape, and there was a tiny, perfectly clear number five marked on his temple.

It was Fives. It was his brother, whom he hadn’t seen in… in…

How long?

It would have been before the Citadel, and that…. How long ago had that been? How long since he’d seen him outside of a screen? Outside of the couple hundred pictures and videos Rex had saved on their datapads?

Echo stared at the figurine’s face, at the white, motionless plastoid. If he tried hard enough he could imagine what it would look like if someone told a really stupid joke. He could remember what his laugh would have sounded like. He’d spent countless nights in a medbay clinging to memories because he couldn’t sleep, or he was cold, or his limbs hurt, or he was just lonely. He remembered wishing Fives had been there–just for a moment, just for a few seconds–to tell him he was going to be okay. He remembered begging silently with tears streaming down his face, clutching a datapad to his chest with the same videos playing over and over again.

And he remembered nothing happening.

Because Fives was gone.

Fives had been gone before he’d even resurfaced from the frozen hell of the Techno Union facility.

Suddenly, Echo was aware the room was much larger than he remembered it being when he walked in. It was too quiet–far too quiet. He could hear his own heart pounding behind his ribs, but everything else was lost to this heavy, clinging silence. There were far too many people around, and they were crowding him in, squeezing all the air from his chest and not giving him room to breathe more.

He couldn’t breathe.

Where was the command to breathe?

There was always a command code to breathe, it came like clockwork–it always did.

Why couldn’t he find it?

Were they letting him die?

He didn’t remember seeing a termination command. They would send one, if they were done with him.

Force, his legs hurt like all nine hells all of a sudden.

Where was the command to breathe?

“Echo, breathe!”

He gasped. Someone had flicked his ear, and it hurt.

“Again, breathe.”

He refocused, recognizing a clone’s face in front of him. Ah, he was rescued.

No, wait, this was–

“Breathe. In with me.”

Boil, right. This was Boil. He took a shaky breath, following Boil’s direction.

“And out again.”

He breathed out, too quickly, but still felt the constriction around his chest and throat loosen just a bit.

Boil nodded. “There we go. Again, in with me.” They breathed in. “And out again.” They breathed out. They breathed in. They breathed out. They breathed in. They breathed out.

Echo was on the ground, sitting against a wall with his knees curled to his chest. He didn’t remember sitting down. He could breathe much better now, though. Turning his head, he almost jumped out of his skin to see General Ti there, her montrals looming over him, looking very concerned.

“Echo,” she said softly. “Can you tell me where you are?”

He looked over their heads and saw a high ceiling. Right. “Temple. Jedi Temple.”

She nodded. “Yes, very good. Do you remember the date today?”

He did, and told her as much. She nodded again.

“Do you remember why you are here?”

Echo looked at her, then at Boil on his other side. He saw his helmet lying on the ground beside him. He looked down at his hands, and they were curled tightly around the figurine he’d just received. Opening them, he ran his left thumb over its face.

Fives’ face.

His eyes burned, and he didn’t have the strength to fight the tears. “I miss my brother,” he croaked, fighting to get the words past the lump in his throat.

If he could, he would find some corner away from the rest of the world, curl up against Fives, and cry until the world fixed itself. It was all wrong right now. It felt like no time had passed since he’d woken up out of cryofreeze, and suddenly it had been almost two years without Fives. How had that happened?

“I know.” Boil put a hand on one of Echo’s knees. “Believe me, I was around when he lost you. He was a wreck too.” Echo suspected the sincerity of his words had more to do with the figurine he had received, but it didn’t matter.

“Is there anything we can do right now,” Master Ti said, “that might make you feel better?”

Echo sniffed and felt tears start running down his cheeks. “Um.” He wiped his eyes and squeezed them shut against the deep ache in his chest for Fives’ nonsense ramblings–the ones he always pulled out when Echo was upset and needed something distracting to listen to for ages at a time. When the worst of it had passed, he opened his eyes again and said, “I would like a hug and somewhere to cry.”

Master Ti and Boil both nodded. “That can be arranged,” she said, getting to her feet in a sweep of brown robes.

“Come on,” Boil said, standing and offering a hand to help him up. “I’ll comm Cody to comm Captain Rex, I’m sure he can send someone over if he can’t come himself. I’ll stick around until then.”

Echo took his hand and got to his feet, taking his helmet back when Boil handed it to him. “Thanks.” The other troopers in the room had backed away to give them space, and Master Windu and the three designers were attempting to keep them occupied, but it was pretty clear where everyone’s attention was. Echo hated it. Turning the statuette in his hands, he looked up at Master Ti. “We can keep these, right?”

She nodded. “Of course. As long as the designers get any feedback you have, you may keep them.”

Boil stooped to grab his helmet and the Waxer figurine from the floor. Putting himself between Echo and the rest of the people in the room, he said, “I know how it is. Hits you all at once, doesn’t it?” Echo nodded. “Same thing happened to me when we got back from Umbara.”

“Follow me,” Master Ti said, and Boil put an arm around Echo’s shoulders as they left the room.

-scene break: several months later-

Fives had never been to the Jedi Temple before. He’d been taken to the Chancellor’s … office? No, his office had that big window. Anyway, he’d been taken somewhere else to meet Palpatine, but he’d never been to the Temple, let alone their public gardens. And he’d never expected to see so many clones heading the same way.

It was odd to be back on Coruscant after so much effort spent getting away from it all those months ago. He had to keep reminding himself the war was over, the inhibitor chips had been unearthed and dealt with, and if those reassurances didn’t work, everyone thought he was dead regardless. So, here he was, back where it had all gone up in flames over two years ago, on a night just like this one.

The new memorial monument had only been open about a week, so the crowds were understandable, and frankly, he wasn’t complaining. The more people, the easier it was to slip away unnoticed. He’d learned that the hard way over the past months.

He followed along with the crowd as they turned a corner, allowing himself the momentary distraction of looking up at the bright lights of the cityscape above him. Speeders and ships whizzed by overhead, lit up white and red in streams. Neon signs and lit windows made the streetlights almost redundant as they poured so much light onto the sidewalks.

It felt good to be around clones again. Hearing familiar voices and seeing the same faces around was far more comforting than he had expected it to be. It made him realize just how lonely he’d been out there in the wide open galaxy. And, as long as the war was over and Palpatine was evil (and dead), he could stay. He could come home, finally.

The entrance of the memorial gardens was heralded by a chorus of oohs and aahs from the people walking ahead of him, and, like everyone else, he craned his neck and bobbed from side to side to catch a glimpse. The crowd pressed forward, funneled between massive stone statues of Jedi, complete with lit yellow lightsabers, into the gardens.

Fives had never suspected this much greenery could survive on Coruscant, but of course, the Jedi would be the ones to make it thrive. There were massive trees on either side of the stone walkway, their boughs crisscrossing overhead. Thick underbrush lined the path, with little signs labeling the plants. Lit lanterns hung on metal posts cast a warm glow on the foliage around them. It was a sight so surprisingly beautiful, Fives nearly forgot why he was there, until the steady movement of the crowd forward brought him out from under the canopy to the main part of the gardens, and there he saw–

Himself.

Well, a twenty-foot tall stone version of himself, with the colored image projected onto the white stone from below, but, yes. Himself. Complete with goatee and confident smirk.

When he’d seen the opening ceremony on the holonews, he hadn’t really considered what it meant that he was the central figure in this memorial monument. But here he was, front and center, framed to be seen by every single person entering the gardens for the next… ever. Hopefully, they weren’t too upset he wasn’t actually dead.

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped to stare until other visitors jostled him back to reality.

Moving through the crowd until he was almost at his statue’s feet, he stopped yet again. His enormous stone boots were crowded with… stuff. Flowers, candles, empty bottles of his favorite beer–there were even notes left, weighted with rocks. Looking to the statues beside his on either side, he found their feet likewise swathed in offerings. They were gifts. Tributes to the fallen soldiers.

As he stood there, he watched other visitors–nattie visitors, quite a lot of them–come forward and add to the offerings. He started walking, following the circle of statues to his right, and saw it happen again and again. A little zabrak boy walked up to the 41st legion trooper’s boots and placed a model X-wing on the ground nearby, then ran back to his guardian, who patted his hair and smiled, telling him she was sure the trooper would have liked it.

Fives walked all the way along the long oval path around the statues. He paused at a moment when he recognized Waxer’s face. Looking to his feet, he saw a group of three twi’leks stop there too. The little girl with blue-green skin walked forward with a small doll in her hands, and placed it gently on top of Waxer’s stone boot, propped against his ankle. The little girl patted his stone leg, then hugged it, before going back to her parents.

Fives suddenly recalled the little design Waxer and Boil had shared on their helmets on Umbara: a little twi’lek girl with blue-green skin. He wondered what had happened to Boil.

By the time he’d made it all the way around to his own statue again (what a weird thing to think about), so many emotions were swirling around his mind, he felt like he’d just left hyperspace without warning. The maelstrom slowed when something caught his eye. There was someone else standing at the foot of his… well, at his feet when he returned. He was a clone in black armor with red paint, but Fives’ focus was immediately drawn to the numerous metal studs sticking out of his scalp.

When Fives got closer, he noticed the man had a pair of drinks held in one hand, in a way that suggested they were definitely fake, because real liquid and ice would not defy gravity like that. Well, it was a conversation starter at the very least, because Fives recognized those drinks. Red liquid in a martini glass with a peel. A red-to-yellow gradient of liquid and ice in a tall cylindrical glass. Yes, there was no mistaking those.

“Are those supposed to be stuck in there like that?” he asked, grateful for his helmet’s vocoder that made it more difficult to pin his accent.

The clone hesitated for a moment, no doubt a little uncertain why a nattie would want to know. But he answered, “Yeah, they’re not real. Just made to look like the real thing.”

“Yeah, I guess leaving alcohol out here isn’t the best plan,” Fives agreed, glancing back at the empty beer bottles.

The clone smirked, and for a second, there was something oddly familiar about the expression. “Nope. Besides,” he added, “it’d be a waste of good booze.”

That, Fives could appreciate. “Yeah, especially drinks like that.” He would know. He and Echo had made a tradition of ordering those exact drinks every first night on leave. Echo got a Coruscant Cosmopolitan, he got a Tatooine Sunrise. He hadn’t had a Sunrise in… well. Since losing Echo.

“You know these?”

“Used to have the Sunrise all the time.” He gestured up to his statue. “Did he like ‘em?”

The clone raised the two glasses and looked at them, and the dulled pain of memory was all too clear on his face. “Yeah,” he finally said. “We used to get these every time we were on leave.” He stepped forward and placed the pair of glasses on the ground beside one of the boots. “Haven’t had one in ages.”

When he turned around to return to his previous spot, Fives had to restrain himself from pointing and saying something stupid like, “You!” The clone had a handprint–a blue handprint–on the right side of his chest plate.

He took stock of a few poignant observations.

One: this clone was leaving gifts at his statue.

Two: Fives recognized the gifts and their significance.

Three: he had a blue kriffing handprint on his armor.

Fives knew how to do math, and one plus two plus three meant that this–this was Echo. His Echo. The dead one.

Granted, he was supposed to be dead himself, so that didn’t mean as much as it would have otherwise. But still! Echo!

Hoping he wasn’t vibrating in place from sheer anticipation, Fives asked, “Hey, you know something?”

Echo–because it had to be him–tilted his head slightly as he looked over at him. “What?” he asked, understandably wary.

With his heart beating hard enough to hear on Kamino, he said, “It’s uh…” He paused, reaching up to his helmet, hearing the seal hiss as it broke. “It’s really weird staring at a twenty-foot tall stone version of yourself.” He looked at Echo. “Or is that just me?”

For a few seconds, Echo just stared, wide-eyed in shock. He did a double-take between the statue and the person in front of him. Then, he punched him in the shoulder.

“You son of a hutt!”

“Ow!” Fives rubbed his shoulder. “I’m not wearing armor. No fa–umph!” He hadn’t finished his sentence before Echo let his helmet fall to the ground and grabbed him for a hug. Fives dropped his own helmet as gently as one could drop anything, and wrapped his arms around his brother in return.

“‘Is that just me–’” Echo mimicked in his ear, hugging tighter. “You kriffing bastard.”

Fives tried to be stern, but a stubborn smile made it difficult. “Me a bastard? You’re supposed to be dead too, remember?”

His brother pulled back far enough to look at him, his hands moving to the sides of his neck, his thumbs resting on his jaw. For a moment, he just looked, and Fives did too. Echo had changed a lot. Finally, he sighed, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.”

Fives rested his own hands on his brother’s vambraces, and noticed that only one of Echo’s hands seemed to radiate the typical amount of heat another person’s hands should radiate. “I mean, I did sort of get you back for it, I guess,” he said with a weak smile.

Echo glared at him, but the animosity wasn’t real. “Yeah, you didn’t need to, dumbass,” he replied. Holding up his right hand, he added, “I could’ve used the emotional support.” With a flick of his wrist, his hand broke away from his arm on a hinge, revealing a vibroblade-like tool and lots of wires. He snapped it back into place with another sharp movement.

The last time they had seen each other, Echo had been in the middle of a huge fireball, he did remember this. He added that to the pile of things to unpack later.

“Yeah.” He pulled Echo closer until their foreheads could rest against the other’s. “Me too,” he admitted. “Being fake-dead and on the run… kinda sucks.”

He heard Echo sniffle before he pulled away again. “But you’re back,” he said, a small tremor in his voice, probably unnoticeable to anyone else. “You’re back for real, you’re not…”

Even after the time they’d spent apart, there was no mistaking the look in his brother’s eyes as anything other than fear. Fives didn’t know what he’d gone through after the Citadel, but whatever it had been, he knew it had been twice as horrible coming out of it to find Fives wasn’t there to help him put the pieces back together. He nodded, tightening his grip on his brother’s arms. “I’m not leaving.” That was all Echo wanted to hear. “I am not leaving you, I promise.”

Echo nodded, once hesitantly, then again with more certainty. He moved in for another hug, bumping their foreheads together again as he did so. Fives leaned into it, burying his face against his neck and feeling Echo do the same to him. Force, he’d missed these hugs. He’d missed physical affection in general, but Echo hugs were something else. Concentrated Echo Hugs would probably make a killing on the black market.

“Welcome home,” Echo said softly, and Fives had to remind himself not to turn into a weeping mess in the middle of a public place with hundreds of people around. He could do that later, when he found Rex and Jesse and everyone else, and could afford to have no shame whatsoever.

“You wanna go get real drinks?” he asked instead to distract them both, working furiously to blink back the threatening tears.

His brother laughed, then sniffed, and Fives caught him wiping his eyes as he stepped back. “Maker, yes. I haven’t had a cosmo in years.”

He grinned. “You think they’ll give me free drinks for getting rid of the evil chancellor?”

Echo snorted as he bent down to grab his helmet. “I think we should find out.”

Fives grabbed his own bucket off the ground and hooked an arm around his brother’s neck. “I missed you like hell, you know that?"

His brother looped an arm around his shoulder and leaned against him as they started making their way through the crowds towards the garden's exit. "Right back at you, brother." He seemed tired, in a way. Fives couldn’t place it just now, but he felt it was his duty as a batchmate to keep the mood light.

"Hey, you think anyone will want my autograph?"

The disparaging look Echo aimed at him was worth the bad joke. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but just as it had always been, a fond smile wouldn't leave his mouth. Fives had missed that look. Jesse got pretty close, but it wasn't the same. "They're gonna need to change the statue at this rate," Echo said. "If your head's gonna be that big."

He gasped at him. "How--you--" Echo snorted and started laughing at his dramatics. "If my helmet weren't in my other hand--"

"It would be plastered across your wounded heart, I know." Fives gave a smug grin and reached up to ruffle the short crop of curls on Echo's head. "Welcome back, you dramatic idiot," Echo said, planting a kiss on his temple.

Fives' cheeks were starting to ache from smiling, but he couldn't care less. His brother was alive. The war was over. They were home.

Ta daaaa! The End 😊 now tags: @soclonely @23-bears @thechaoticfanartist @fate-and-destiny @mercurydancer @darth-void idk I don't have a tag list lol @hootydoot @fivesarctrooper @dominosqd

[calamity-aims]

“I’m fine… just a little dizzy.” With Jesse and Fen 🥺👉👈 I love them and desperately want more of their relationship

c'mere anon let me love you for loving Fen! and Jesse! You have my whole heart.

Have a little outtake from the end of their days are darker: (might not make a whole ton of sense unless you've read it? sorry)

The medbays on Coruscant were full to bursting with troopers, waiting their turn to get the chips out of their heads. The 501st had been taken care of in the medbay aboard their own Venator, but the Coruscant Guard's medical facilities had been deemed insufficient by Healer Che. And thus the Guard were being treated at the Temple.

Well. "Insufficient" was one of the many colorful and varied words Healer Che had used to describe the state of the Guard's medbay, and probably the most positive. Apparently it was understocked, understaffed, and full of Guard troopers in need of intensive care.

In any case, the rest of Coruscant Guard was at the Jedi Temple. So Jesse was also at the Jedi Temple, pushing through brothers and Jedi alike in his haste to reach the healing halls.

It looked like other vode had come up with the same idea; the Temple was full to bursting with clones in all different armor colors, all looking to make amends to their brothers in red.

A familiar face flashed by - Jesse grabbed Kix by the arm, stopping the medic's forward progress.

"What?" snapped Kix. "We're really busy, Jesse, I can't-"

"Fen," Jesse said, his voice hitting a pleading note that made him cringe. "Fen, where is he."

Kix didn't respond, but he brought his datapad up and started swiping. 

Jesse would count that as a win.

"He might not want to see you," Kix said without looking up. "A lot of them don't want to see outsiders."

"Outsiders? We're brothers."

Kix didn't even dignify that with a response; he just scoffed and kept swiping through his 'pad.

And that was fair. More than fair, really. Jesse thought back to the last words he'd said to Fen, the punch that replayed over and over in his head since he'd learned the truth about the Guard.

Maybe he shouldn't have called Commander Fox a bootlicking piece of shit. Maybe he shouldn't have said Fen was just as bad. But there was no changing the past now - there was only the future.

A future, Jesse hoped, where Fen would forgive him.

He rushed to the room number Kix gave him, stood outside the door impatiently until it slid open and a few Guards spilled out, all with matching bandages on their foreheads and led by a Jedi Healer. 

Even their quiet murmurs to each other dropped to silence as they passed by Jesse.

Jesse pretended he didn't notice or deserve that and kept scanning for his batchmate. There, at the end of the group - Fen's characteristic slouched walk and etched buzz cut.

There were still bruises on his face where Jesse had punched him, fading out to sickly greens and yellows across his cheekbones.

"Fen!"

His brother startled. Overbalanced, but Jesse was there, grabbing Fen around the shoulders and stabilizing him.

"You ok?" Jesse asked.

Fen didn't even look at him. "Fine. Just a little dizzy."

“Let me help you,” said Jesse, taking a firmer grip on Fen. 

“Why?” Fen’s tone was perfectly flat. Perfectly polite.

“Because--because it’s what I should’ve done from the beginning.”

“But you didn’t, Jesse, so it’s done,” Fen said, that perfectly bland voice cracking just a bit. He shoved at Jesse, but bounced off ARC-trained reflexes.

“It’s not done. Fen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jesse pleaded. Faint apologies from other troopers, other battalions, swirled through the hall in a haunting echo. It looked like every battalion currently on Triple Zero was represented, all trying to make amends with their neglected brothers in the Guard.

This had to work. Fen didn’t hold grudges, never had. 

“Hey!”

Some of the Corries ahead of them had turned around. “Fen, you alright?” said one of them, stepping forward.

“Yes, Commander Thire,” Fen said immediately. Thire’s gaze flicked from Fen to Jesse, lingering on Jesse’s tattoo, and he advanced with all the grace and danger of a nexu. 

“Jesse, isn’t it?” Thire said softly. Shit. It was never good when commanders outside your battalion knew your name.

“Yessir.”

“You’d best be moving on, trooper,” Thire said, and it wasn’t a suggestion, not with that much venom laced into Thire’s voice. Jesse hesitated, loath to let go of Fen, but the commander’s eyes were hard as durasteel.

His hands dropped. “I, uh. I’ll see you later, Fen?” he tried. 

“Um. Sure,” said Fen, and then he was gone, bracketed by Corries and absorbed back into their ranks, leaving Jesse standing, bereft. 

[clonecyare]

For the clone hc thing uhhhh because of the blue shadow virus, Rex's immune system had been compromised leading to him getting sick easier then other clones, but he hates to admit it when it happens so he tries to power through the sickness. It falls to torrent (mostly Kix) to bully him into resting when this happens XD

Protocol 57: Get The Captain To Rest

Summary: Rex’s immune system has never been the same since the Blue Shadow virus. Cue Torrent company holding an intervention.

Pairing: None

Tags: sick rex, caring brothers, torrent company being the best vod, rex is very loved, but also stubborn when he gets sick

Word Count: 922

A/N: This was fun to write! Mando’a translations at the end. Headcanon submitted as part of this post.

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

Rex gave a disgruntled sniffle as he walked down the halls of the Resolute, shivering lightly even under his full armour. In one hand he held a datapad and a stack of flimsi reports, in the other, a handful of tissues.

Ever since he contracted the Blue Shadow virus the previous year, Rex found he fell sick more often than most of his brothers, and that it hit him harder when he did. But, he was a soldier. He was the Captain of the 501st Legion and he had work to do. He wasn’t about to let a little sickness get in his way. They were at war, for Force sake!

Unfortunately, his vod’ikas had other plans.

----

Jesse was first to spot their ori’vod looking, well, for lack of a better word, osik. If it hadn’t been for the puffy eyes and coughing, the stumbling would have given him away. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist comm, tapping through to Five’s private comm link.

“Fives, we’ve got a protocol 57, spread the word.”

“Damn it, again?”

Fives responded almost immediately with a chuckle, and Jesse could hear shuffling on the other end, then a few beeps and Echo joined them. Before long, the rest of Torrent company was on the comm.

Fives chuckled as he and Echo made a quiet escape from the training room,

“Right, let's have a clean sweep this time, eh vod?”

Dogma laughed,

“Don’t worry, we got this. 34th times a charm, right?”

Tup elbowed him, and Fives continued.

“Echo and I are on point, we’ll run interference at the armoury and push him up to the bridge. Hardcase, you find him and get him to us.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as the rest of his brothers recited their jobs. “I’ll get word down to Kix. Good luck di’kuts.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as the rest of his brothers recited their jobs. “I’ll get word down to Kix. Good luck di’kuts.”

----

Rex was idly rubbing his temples as he headed for the mess hall, too engrossed in his datapad to notice Hardcase approaching him at first. Engrossed may be the wrong word, when really he was just trying to make the words stop moving.

“Captain…” Hardcase jogged to catch up with him. “Sir, are you alright?”

Rex snapped out of it, turning to face the trooper. He cleared his throat, balling his tissues in his palm.

“Hardcase, I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“You're headed for the mess and lunch finished an hour ago.” He nodded to the empty mess hall, beginning to guide him away and down the brightly lit hallway. “Are you sure you’re alright? Echo was looking for you to oversee an inventory in the armoury but I can help him if you’d like. I think Kix is still down in medical if-”

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Hardcase.”

The man just shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. “I have the next training session, I’ll walk with you to the armoury, Sir.”

Rex loved all his vod, really, he did. But he did not have the energy for Hardcase right now. Still, he powered through, nodding his head.

Hardcase did. not. stop. talking. and gesturing energetically the entire time. He saluted the Captain as he stopped outside the armour, where Fives and Echo were conveniently just leaving, standing to attention.

He gave them a wink and left them in the company of their now exhausted Captain.

Rex waved his hand to put the arc troopers at ease, nodding inside the inventory and coughing.

“You needed me to do an inventory?”

Echo shook his head, “It’s alright Sir, Fives assisted me.”

“Are you alright, Captain? We can handle the bridge report this evening, why don’t you turn in early? You must be exhausted-” Fives tried, maybe they’d get lucky.

“I’m quite alright, boys.” Rex said suspiciously. “Why do you all keep asking if I’m alr-”

Rex cut himself off with a rather large sneeze, followed by a coughing fit. Fives grinned, giving Echo a look behind his ori’vod’s back.

“I think Tup was looking for your Sir, you might want to catch him on your way to the bridge, it seemed important.”

Rex suppressed his complaints and rubbed his temple, nodding. “Thanks vod.”

He set off again, and Echo was straight on his comm.

“Dogma, he’s all yours.”

----

On his way to find Tup on the bridge, Rex caught Dogma sprinting at the other side of the hallways, a stack of flimsi in his hand. Rex wasn’t in the mood for this, groaning and rubbing his temples.

“Dogma, what did I say about run-”

“Sorry Sir, I wa- wooooah-”

Dogma skidded to a halt in an attempt to salute his Captain and ‘tripped’, landing on the cold durasteel floor and clutching his ankle.

Rex kneeled beside him, shaking his head with a sigh. “Dank farrik, not again. Come on, let’s get you to Kix.”

Dogma let Rex help him up and limped all the way to the medical bay where Jesse was standing with Kix, grinning.

Kix just rolled his eyes and shooed Dogma away, who promptly stood on his perfectly uninjured feet and joined Jesse at the door.

“What the-”

Kix pointed to the nearest cot. “On the cot, Sir, you look like bantha shit.”

Rex opened his mouth to protest, and was hit with a fit of coughing. Scowling, he resigned himself to his fate and climbed up onto the cot. He shot a look at Jesse and Dogma, standing smugly in the doorway wearing matching smirks.

“Di’kuts.”

Jesse and Dogma just grinned as Hardcase, Fives, Echo and Tup’s heads appeared one by one, sticking around the doorframe.

“We love you too, ori’vod.”

---

Vod’ikas - little brothers

Ori’vod - big brother

Osik - shit

Di’kuts - idiots

Vod - brother

Dank farrick - fuck

[skyjadesolo]

Anakin: Kix said that I was perfectly fine. Except for three cracked ribs. And a broken toe. Which was right next to two other broken toes.

Rex: Did he clear you or not.

Anakin: He did not. Alright, let's get to work.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello there! I really love your headcanons! Could I request the clones getting into a relationship with an s/o who is a relationship virgin/who has never been in a relationship? Thank you....

Well hello there 😄 Ah, how sweet. I think most of the clones are strangers to relationships themselves so this will be interesting...

Wolffe, Tup, and Crosshair are completely clueless about relationships. They may have hoped to be with someone who knew what they were doing and could help them figure it out, but oops, they couldn't help but fall for their equally inexperienced S/O anyway. The two of them end up doing their own thing, making their own rules and moving at their own pace. Their relationship may seem unconventional to others, but it works perfectly for them and that's all that matters.

Fox, Dogma, and Tech are also not very experienced, but they'll be damned if they don't figure out how to treat their S/O right. They'll seek out advice from others on how to date, woo, and romance their partner. Meanwhile, their S/O's doing exactly the same thing, too: researching and getting tips and advice. They both try so hard to please each other, and end up accidentally ruining each other's plans, which just leads to some hilarious, unexpected, and wonderful memories.

Cody, Rex, and Hunter are true gentlemen. They won't let their S/O feel nervous about anything, though they secretly find all their blushing and apologizing adorable. They'll be patient and attentive, and they'll encourage open communication so they can work on building the relationship together. There's no need to worry whether they're "doing it right," they insist, because there is no right or wrong way. So long as they are loyal and care for each other.

Fives, Echo, and Hardcase are fine with taking the lead on things. They won't be pushy, but they will take more initiative and step up when the moment calls for it. Whether it's planning the next date night or navigating an important conversation. They're also frequently asking questions, trying to gauge their partner's happiness and comfort throughout the relationship, ensuring whatever arrangement they have is working, and if not, how it can be improved so they can stay together.

Jesse, Kix, and Wrecker are just excited to be with their S/O. Their enthusiasm for the relationship is infectious, so any embarrassment their partners may have had about being inexperienced quickly vanishes. Their bonding comes from spending time together, living and laughing and loving. And while there may be some miscommunication every once in a while, that's ultimately what leads to their growth as they work things through and get back on the same page.

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

You’ll do wonderful with anything you write! But to help jump start your writing (as I know very well), Angst 14 & Fluff 11!!! ❤️❤️ - @snippy-tano

Thank you so much @snippy-tano for the inspiration! Although... I got a little carried away so here you go! A whole fic for you! 

Stitched Together 

Kix x Reader

Warnings: Blood. Mentions of injury and the treatment of that injury. Mentions of death.

You can find the prompt list here.

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” and “I think I’m in love with you.”

 You were running. The sun beating down on you as you ran through the camp toward the med tent.

 The transmission had come in while you were on your break. You had just been about to settle down for your first sleep in days after it looked like the campaign had started to calm down when your communicator beeped. It was from Jesse.

 Kix was injured. We are bringing him back to camp now.

At that, you instantly jumped up and put your boots back on as fast as you could. Now, with the med tent in sight, you saw Jesse and Hardcase carrying Kix between them on a small stretcher.

 The armor on his left side was shattered from his leg all the way up to his shoulder. He was covered in the tan dust that was constantly surrounding you on the planet and you could see blood seeping from one of the cracks in the armor around his middle.

 You ran up to the entrance of the tent, holding open the flap for the two carrying Kix inside.

 “What happened?”

 Jesse grunted as he and Hardcase lifted Kix onto one of the raised beds. “Seppies got word of our location. Kix here was working on a shinie when a charge landed near them. He threw himself onto of the kid to protect him instead of—”

 “What did you expect me to do,” Kix said with a wince as his right arm went to grip at his side. “I wasn’t just gonna leave the kid there!”

 You started to carefully examine Kix’s midsection, making sure that you were clear to take off his armor without doing any more damage.

 “And that is very admirable,” you said, quickly continuing your search, “but you’re the best medic that we have and one of the only senior field medics. We can’t afford to lose you.”

 “I can’t afford to lose you,” you thought, something tightening in your chest just thinking about not having Kix by your side anymore.

 “Oh, quit it with that,” Kix breathed out, his jaw clenching at the effort. “You’re just as good of a medic as me. Besides, it’s only superficial. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

 You rolled your eyes and smiled. Kix never was one to see the downside in anything.

 You heard Jesse start to laugh as he quipped something back at Kix, when your eyes landed on the piece of armor that was sticking into Kix’s side, blood still gushing from the wound.

 “Oh, kriff…” You meant to only say it to yourself, but your voice was just loud enough that the others could hear it.

 The tent went silent, all eyes turning to you.

 “What,” Hardcase asked. “What is it?”

 You leapt up, pointing at one of the junior medics that was awaiting your instruction. “Get me the surgery pack and the armor removal kit.”

 You rushed over to one of the storage bins and opened the drawer, grabbing a numbing agent, a sedative, and a blood cleanser.

 “Why,” Kix asked, his voice laced with pain and confusion.

 You walked back over to the bed, prepping the sedative as you looked at his face that was covered with pain. “A piece of your armor is stuck inside you and is still attached to the rest of your chest plate. Every time you breathe, it opens the wound more and you lose more blood.”

 Kix’s eyebrows shoot up in a mock laugh. “Oh, is that all,” he said sarcastically.

 “Shut up Kix! This isn’t a joke.” You stuck the sedative into his neck as the junior medic walked back into the room and handed you the armor removal kit. You then suck the numbing agent into his neck, telling the junior medic to prepare another one for his side once you get his armor off.

 He smirked, his head tilting toward you. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of funny to be the patient and know everything that is going to happen.” He blinked his eyes a couple of times, the sedative starting to take effect. “First you are going to have to cut off the armor around the affected area. You’re supposed to give five inches of clearance on either side, but I usually make it bigger to give me more room.” His words start to slur as the numbing agent makes its way through his bloodstream and the crease in his brow starts to loosen. “Then you are going to scan to make sure the piece hasn’t pierced any organs, but that takes time and blood flows quickly.”

 You give him a hard look before you start cutting the armor around his midsection, being careful to avoid his small movements beneath the armor as he breathes. You can see the shard in his side open the wound a bit more, causing more blood to spill out.

 “Then,” he continues, his words all melding together, “you’re gonna have to get the piece out and stich up the wound and stop the bleeding.”

 You finish cutting the armor and carefully pull the piece from its place. “I know what I’m doing Kix. Trust me.”

 He keeps going, not paying attention to what you just said. “Course, I’ll probably be dead from blood loss at that point anyways.”

 You grab the second numbing agent from the medic, sticking it into the flesh a little ways away from the wound. “Don’t say that. You’ll be fine.”

 “S-just the truth,” he mumbles. “Most men with somthin’ like this don’t make it past the scanning.” You see his head loll toward Jesse out of the corner of your eye. “S-because the armor shard usually does too much damage on the inside.

 You grab the scanner, running it over the area slowly trying to keep your hands steady. “Damnit Kix! Can you just shut up for once in your life and listen to me! You’re going to be fine!”

 You see Kix look at you out of the corner of your eye, wishing that you could see his face.

 “You have to be,” you whisper.

 Taking a deep breath, you keep running the scanner over the area, worry creeping up your spine as you slowly see the results filling the screen. “Jesse,” you snap out harder than you intended.

 “Yeah,” he asks quietly, not knowing how to respond to everything he has just heard.

 “Get him talking about something else. Nothing that will make him too excited. I don’t need him moving. The sedative is going to take just a couple of more minutes to work.”

 Jesse steps forward, crouching down so that he is almost eye level with Kix. “What should I talk about?”

 “Anything, just get him off of this conversation.”

 “Alright,” he says, apprehension in his voice. “Hey Kix, remember that seedy diner we found last time we were on leave? The one a couple of levels below 79’s? The one that had those burgers you loved?”

 The scanner beeps in your hand. You look at the screen, holding your breath as you read the results.

 No internal injuries found. Organs intact and functioning at 100% efficiency.

 You breathe out a sigh of relief, hearing Kix reply.

 “Yeah!” He is talking slow, struggling to form coherent words as they all slur together. “I loved that place. And I loved those burgers.”

 You pick up the surgery tools from the kit, starting to take the piece of armor from his side. You motion to the junior medic whispering for him to be ready to hand you the stitching equipment.

 Right after you finally pull the huge, four-inch-long piece out of Kix’s side, you see him moving, his arm coming up to point at Jesse with a big dopey grin on his face. “And I love you guys so much. You guys are the best brothers a guy could have.”

 You look over at Jesse as you press gauze to Kix’s side, sopping up some of the blood before you start the stiches. “Keep him still Jesse.”

 Kix’s head moves to look at you at the sound of your voice, the grin still on his face as Jesse lightly holds his arm down at his side. “And you,” he slurred out. “I think I’m in love with you.”

 Your jaw drops open, your task at hand leaving your mind for a fraction of a second before you turn back to your work feeling a deep heat rising on your face.

 You see Kix turn back to Jesse out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N is really the best. I love them so much. They’re just so nice and -kriff- so gorgeous. I just wanna sweep’em of their feet and kiss’em like it’s the last thing I do.”

 His voice starts tapering off, the sedative finally overpowering his will to stay awake.

 “Jesse?” His voice is groggy and barely above a whisper.

 “Yeah, Kix?”

 “This’s gotta be our secret m’kay? You promise not to tell Y/N?”

 You look over at Jesse, his head looking between you and his brother before he settles on Kix, a soft smile gracing his face. “Yeah vod. I promise.”

 Kix hums. “Thanks, vod. You really are the best.”

 You take a deep breath, looking at the blood-soaked gauze in your hand as everything that just happened rushed through your head.

 You couldn’t think about that right now. You had a job to do and you were going to make sure that you could see Kix after this, regardless of what had just happened.

 You shook your head and took another breath before holding your hand out to the medic and taking the needle before pulling the gauze away from the wound and beginning your work.

*******************************************************************************************

It had been a couple of hours since you had finally finished with Kix. You were able to close his wound without any issue and his vitals had been stable ever since. And, according to your scans, the blood cleanser was working perfectly.

 You still hadn’t had a break since then, having to tend to the rest of the men who were injured when the rest of the group got back. There had been quite a few major traumas as well as the usual minor injuries.

 But now, after the last of the men had been taken care of, the tent was silent. It was strange to have so much peace in the atmosphere after such a long period of pure chaos but you were just glad that you could finally check on Kix again.

 All of the scans were the same as they were before. He was stable, and when you checked the stitches on his side, they were holding up beautifully.

 You gave a sigh of relief before turning to one of the screens across from Kix’s bed, your back turned to him. Once you had everything logged in your datapad, you turned to leave so that you could go sit by the entrance in case any late-night injuries came in.

 “You know,” you heard from behind you, “if you keep working without sleep, you’re going to kill yourself.”

 You whipped around, seeing Kix smirking at you from where he lay on the bed.

 “Kix!” You rushed over to him, quickly glancing at his vitals monitor again before looking at his face. “How are you feeling?”

 He groaned, bringing his right hand up to rub his face. “Like I was blown up and then drugged. Which I think have worn off.” He looked up at you with a mischievous smile. “How much would I have to bribe you for another stim?”

 You chuckled and sat down, reaching behind you to grab one that you had already set out for when he was due for another shot. “Don’t you know it’s against the rules to bribe medical staff for drugs,” you teased as you gently angled his head so that you could inject the medicine into his neck.

 He grunted slightly at the feeling, but quickly relaxed once you pulled away. “You won’t go ratting me out, will you?”

 You laughed. “I promise.”

 At your words, Kix’s eyes widened, his body tensing before he winced and forced himself to relax again. His eyes now found place on his hands in front of him, which were now fiddling with the edge of the blanket he was under. He cleared his throat. “So, um… Did I say anything? While I was going under? Or-or was that just all in my head?”

 Your eyes widened in realization and you felt your face begin to heat up as you remembered his admission. “You, you um… May have said some things while you were going under.”

 He looks up at you briefly, an embarrassed look on his face. “Did I say what I think I said?”

 “Uh… yeah,” you said sheepishly. “But I know that the meds can make people say things that they don’t mean, like when we had to put Echo under on the last campaign?” You chuckled at the memory, clearing your throat as you realized Kix was still listening. You got up and began slowly backing away from his bed. “But anyways… I-I’ll just go, and we can forget that it ever happened. I know that you didn’t mean it and I don’t want things to get awkward. “

 You turned around but immediately felt a hand around your wrist. “Y/N, wait!” You heard Kix groan in pain and turned around to see him hunched forward so that he could stop you.

 “Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy! You’re gonna tear your stitches if you do that!” You lightly pushed on his chest to get him to lie back onto the bed.

 “Y/N, I-“

 “Now hold on,” you said, your mind switching into doctor mode. “I need to make sure you didn’t tear your stitches.”

 You lift up his shirt, and carefully inspect his side, checking for any sign of damage. Your hands grace over the skin just around his wound as you work in silence.

 After what feels like an eternity, you pull away and turn around to grab a bacta patch. “The stitches look fine, but the area around them is looking a little more inflamed than it should. I’m going to put a bacta patch on it just to be safe.”

 You pull apart the package, and once again silently begin working. You concentrate on the wound, being as gentle as possible as you place the bacta on Kix’s warm skin.

 “It wasn’t just the drugs you know.”

 His voice pulls you from your thoughts as you finish securing the patch in place with medical tape.

 You look at him, eyes wide as he stares right back at you. “What?”

 “What I said. It wasn’t just the drugs.” He reaches to his side and pulls your hand from there up to his chest, tenderly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you for the longest time, but I just never knew how. I guess taking away my filter and thinking that I wasn’t going to see you again just… made my brain have to say it.”

 You don’t know what to say. Your skin was buzzing under his touch and you could feel your face getting hotter and hotter as your heart pounded in your chest.

 He continued. “I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I just had to tell you. I needed you to know, even if just for a moment, that I love you.”

 “I do,” you blurt out.

 “What?”

 “I… I do feel the same way.” You start to smile as you see Kix’s eyes light up. “I never thought you would reciprocate, so I never said anything. But I do. I love you.”

 Kix smiled, bringing his hand that was not holding yours up to cup your face. His thumb ran over your cheek as he gazed at you with pure admiration. “Can I kiss you?”

 You sucked in a breath and smiled as you bit your bottom lip slightly between your teeth. You nodded and closed your eyes as Kix guided you forward.

 You felt your lips softly collide with his as your noses lightly bumped each other.

 As his lips moved against yours, it was tender and gentle and over far too soon.

 You both pulled back just enough so that you could look into each other’s eyes before bringing your foreheads together.

 “I love you, Y/N.”

 You smiled. “I love you too, Kix.”

 You then leaned forward and pressed another light kiss to his lips, feeling him smiling.

 “Well, I guess I don’t have to pretend to keep that secret anymore.”

 You whipped around, finding Jesse smugly standing in the doorway.

 “Shut up Jesse,” you said as you started getting up.

 You turned back to Kix, giving him a light peck on the lips and squeezing his hand. “I have to get back to work, but I promise that I will keep coming in to check on you.”

 He smiled at you squeezing your hand. “Don’t work too hard cyar'ika.”

 You smirked, picking up your datapad. “When have I ever taken it easy?”

 Kix chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I know. But just know that I am going to force you to take a three-day nap once I’m healed and can work again.”

 You laughed, feeling your eyes droop at the mention of sleep. “You have no idea how much I am looking forward to that.”

[tojakku]

✶ - sugarplums and stardust 

pairing: fpopstar! reader x arc trooper fives                                            summary: you, sugarplum, galaxy-wide adored popstar. fives, galaxy-wide renowned idiot.                                                                                  warnings: rated m for mature! this chapter includes: smut (18+), oral (female receiving), dirty talk, implied rough sex, pee pee in v, the beauty of checking up on your partner, mature language... a hot clone trooper, flirtation... alcohol... etc... fives being a little slut 

THE BARRACKS ARE ALMOST ENTIRELY QUIET. Almost. The centre of Coruscant never quite escaped from the thrum of late-night traffic, or the sing of the planet throbbing right below their feet, through canals and chambers and pipes of sewers crawling with scrap rats. 

Sometimes too much silence wasn’t good for Fives’ brothers. Sometimes it made them more restless, tossing and turning before eventually leaving to the gym, to push weights and punch bags until their tiredness had them collapsing on the mats. It was an uneasy and unpredictable world in the barracks- right where it should be predictable and easy.

The 501st are on shore leave along with a good handful of other battalions, a couple from the Inner Rim, the 13th Battalion from Sullust, even Wolffe and Cody were sticking around somewhere. Fives, although he was meant to be raving and silly and wild, was feeling a little… well, he hadn’t eaten much at dinner.

Something about the last campaign on Bothawui, a second, months after the first, and being soaked through with blood and gunfire, had just dulled him a little. Maybe he just needed sharpening.

He muscles his helmet in his hands, trudging down the main corridor through the barracks. There were separate rooms inside now, the one he shared with the rest of Rex’s squadron far at the end. The lights, although top of the range, working perfectly, were too bright, flickering off the durasteel of the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Fives wrinkles his nose. Too bright.

There’s the slightest shimmer of music, though, and for a brief fleeting moment, Fives is convinced it’s coming from outside, from Coruscant, but when he pushes through into his part of the barracks, his stomping ground, he stops still.

Now, the 501st have always been fans of partying, music, drinks, cantinas, women, but Maker, Fives was not expecting four full-grown men huddled around a datapad, nodding their heads to a silvery voice accompanied by a thrumming beat. He didn’t expect, either, the harsh shushing he receives from an irritated Kix.

The medic holds up a hand and starts rabbiting on to Jesse, perched on his left on the bunk, leaning his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Damn batchmates. 

“See? She’s amazing,” Kix mutters, gesturing at the datapad. “She was on the radio the other day, little Tano said something about her and I looked into it.” Fives tosses his helmet on the opposite bunk and takes a peek at what exactly they’re watching.

Oh.

A popstar. Shimmying. Rather precariously. 

She’s all clad up in pale, pastel lavender, her cheeks dusted in a thin film of shimmering pink, her mouth painted a matching shade. She’s even got this wild, bright yellow hair. Kix takes a wary glance at Fives before angling the screen a little more.

“Sugarplum.” 

“She’s some babe from the Core Worlds, a superstar,” Hardcase supplies, chewing on a bar of some unidentifiable substance with a grin. “Hot,” he comments, when she turns to wink at the camera.

“What is this?” Fives asks, leaning heavily on the bunk. Her shimmering, glittery skin seems to just seep through the datapad with every shift, shimmy and spin. 

“She’s doing concerts all over Coruscant in the next few days. Then Corellia, then the other ecumenopoli.” Echo speaks as if it’s common knowledge. Fives scowls at his twin, shoving his shoulder with a hand. 

Kix swipes left on the datapad and suddenly a rather risque picture flashes up, Sugarplum’s tongue out, her eyes rolled back. A ripple of chaos from the boys as they try to cover the datapad, and a roar of laughter from Hardcase when the pad goes flying over their heads.

“What the fuck?”

“That is not my datapad, I swear-”

“Yeah, it’s Tup’s!” 

“No, no, it’s definitely ‘Case’s.”

Fives snorts, throwing himself onto his bunk, listening, happily, to his brothers bicker.

“Want to bet she wants a piece of clone ass?” A murmur of dissent and discern when Jesse speaks follows- Fives struggles not to burst into a laugh. The cog-faced trooper looks down in embarrassment when he’s knuckled into a headlock. “Come on!”

“Yeah, maybe she does, but we weren’t going to say that!” A pause. “It’s practically gospel truth all of the beautiful ladies want a piece of us.”

The door busts open again, on four troopers in a pile, and Fives, beaming happily away on his bunk. It’s Rex, ole’ Captain, and he looks once at the pile, once at Fives, before moving into the barracks, silent as night- not on Coruscant, silent somewhere else.

Fives wriggles under his Captain’s gaze, uneasy. Sometimes he made him uneasy when he didn’t talk, didn’t even greet them. Sometimes it meant the end of shore leave. Fives swallows, stuffing the panic hard down in his stomach to edge himself along the bunk with a little more formality. Rex catches his gaze.

“You lot looking at Sugarplum again?” There’s an uproar of disagreements, denials and something else, just Jesse relenting with a sigh. Fives stuffs a fist against his mouth, trying to contain his laughter at the four troopers fumbling over each other, even as Rex stares, unimpressed. 

“Yeah,” Fives mutters. “They were, but we saw some of Hardcase’s secret bank and they threw the-” A pillow hits him square in the face. “Hey!” 

“You guys are bad as cadets,” Rex huffs, laughing softly, bringing his datapad up. He looks more tired than usual, rings under his eyes.

“You tired, Rex?” Kix asks, suddenly fluttering into medic-mode. He touches Rex’s forehead with the back of three fingers and draws an amused sigh from the Captain. Fives watches over the edge of his fist. If something’s wrong with Rex, that means no drinking themselves into inhibition later that night. 

“Better not be! We’re out tonight,” Jesse knocks his hand on Rex’s shoulder as he throws himself up from the bunk. “And I’m dreaming of beating Commander Wolffe in a drink-down this time. This time.”

“Don’t you say that every time, vod?” Hardcase levels a gaze back at the now-scowling Jesse. 

“What clubs do you think Sugarplum goes to?”

“Those glitzy ones on the upper levels, probably, the ones suspended in the air,” Rex joins in then, making weird shapes with his hands. “You’ve seen.” A moment of silence. “Okay, well, the General told me they sell sunfruit liquors there for five credits a shot.”

“Is it supposed to be better than the shit they sell us at 79’s?”

“Who fucking knows.”

“The General, apparently-”

“Kenobi was the one who told him.” 

Another round of laughs. Fives sighs, smiling, before wrestling Echo into a headlock.

“Ready to get out-drunk tonight, brother?” A shove, a scoff, then a grin. “You better be. You owe me three drink runs.”

“Three?” 

“Three, vod, three. For the last time I saved you.” Echo shakes his head, pushing a hand through his dark hair- same as them all, deep down. “Three.”

“Two.”

Fives laughs, bumping forearms with his brother. Echo knocks his temple against Fives’ and a moment of softness breaks the twins’ bickering.

“Fine, two.” 

Fives never could refuse his batchmate. 

-

You weren’t, and never will be, completely keen on Coruscant. Too much… difference. No, it’s not that, it’s just the deep tunnels into the ground and the rumours you hear sometimes, through your girls, through… well, anywhere.

‘Disease grows twofold as the lower levels of Coruscant are ignored for a Senate sickness’, or ‘The lower levels of Coruscant- most dangerous place in the galaxy?’. No, of course not. There’s police, you stupid news writer.

You pick idly at your nails, smoothing your thumbs over each metallic-blue painted tip to soothe your nerves. 

Eva and Lirisa had planned for a club outing tonight. The concert earlier had gone perfectly fine, just amazing, really. Everything was on point, the dancing, the singing, the backup vocals, the crowd… it still tingles on your skin like a second skin. The thrill would never hit any different.

You’re hidden away in your dressing room back in your apartment, slumped over a chair like a swooning lady. Lirisa is fixing her hair around her three little head horns, a bright, vivid purple like her skin, frowning in the mirror over your shoulder. She catches your gaze after a moment, face folding into concern.

You stretch out in the plum velvet chair, legs in fluffy slippers spreading when she gets that look. That look meant questions.

“Why are you so down?” You frown, shaking your head, returning your gaze to the datapad in your hands. A news article about you paints the screen. Lirisa looks down, once, twice, realises, and snatches your chin away from it. “Stop reading it if it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s good.” She pouts, letting you go with a soft pat to the shoulder. You shuffle uncomfortably in your feather-trimmed robe, the sheer material not offering much of a comfort in the face of a wide-open balcony window a few paces away.

Eva appears seconds later, looking plump and perfect in her eye-snatching candyfloss pink minidress, feet hidden in peculiar fur-cuffed ankle boots. She shifts, eyes ducking against the ground, her tattoos across her nose, little black diamonds against pale green skin, vivid and stark. 

“Oh, wow!” You exclaim, turning the spinning chair with a free hand. Lirisa squeals, rushing forward to tug at the hem of the dress, pulling the daring v-neck even lower. Eva hisses, batting away her friend’s hands.

“Don’t pull it down that far!” 

“I wasn’t!” 

A giggle and a sigh, then attention flickers back towards you. Your gut drops when they rush forwards, springing upon your wardrobe like it was their job- well, it was, but that doesn’t matter. There’s two options for dresses and you’ve already made your decision. A deep blue second skin, a dress that shimmered like a starlit night under the right light. The front was a simple scooped neck, low enough that your cleavage could make a gasp for breath, but not low enough you’d be recognised for a sleaze. The back is a square of sheer material until your hips, a little more than daring, a little less than risque, perfect for a night of dancing and drinking. 

There were even little silver stilettos in the corner. 

“No one will recognise me in blue, so stop trying to find other dresses,” you chide. “I’ve already made my decision.” A pout from Lirisa doesn’t move your hard-as-steel expression. Sometimes the Theelin girl had the ability to actually change your mind, but now, you sit there, waiting patiently for her to stop sulking. “Are we still going to that… um, that bar?”

“‘That bar’,” Eva mocks, turning you sharply to the mirror to start fiddling with your hair. It rests, untouched, until she starts pulling it up. “The clone bar.”

“Are we even going to be allowed in?” Eva nods, twisting a coil of hair around her finger. It’s not the same electric yellow it was on stage- the wig was long gone. “Who have you bribed this time?” You grin, glancing at her in the mirror. She shakes her head, disgusted at the pure suggestion of bribery. 

(Wouldn’t be the first time she had… well, Eva had once tried to bribe a club bouncer with a tray of meiloorun fruit.)

“I heard from a reliable source in the GAR offices that a whole bunch of sexy, all-too-willing clones are on shore leave.” You sigh, tugging on a forlorn strand of hair. Eva grabs your shoulder, firmly. “Don’t pull, your hair is almost done.”

“Shouldn’t I get my dress on first?”

“You’ll only spill blumfruit juice on it.” You scowl. “And we’re leaving in twenty minutes, standard. I already called a speeder for us.” 

“No paps?”

“No paps.” A pat on your shoulder and you relax. “Anyway, we’re going to have fun tonight!” Lirisa moves around in the background, now clad head to toe in what looks like skin-tight purple leather. She smiles, fondly, smoothing down a crease at her hip. The neckline plunges low below her sternum, but she acts as if she’s wearing Jedi robes with a swish and a sashay. You redirect your eyes when you get a rather tasteful flash of sideboob. “Looking good, Liri.”

“Thank you!”

“Is it a new suit?” A pause, a shrug. “Is it from my wardrobe?” You ask, eyebrow cocked in question. She nods, coyly smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Huh! If I took that you’d scream at me.”

“No, because I’d never confidently display so much sideboob at a club, Eva,” you mutter. Eva ponders it for a moment, but agrees, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Well, let’s just get to the club first, then we’ll decide how much ‘sideboob’ you’ll display after a few drinks.”

-

If there was one thing Eva was right about, it was the abundancy of rather good-looking men in the same place. Getting in had been easy- just flutter your lashes at the Coruscant guard on the door, he’d step aside and let you straight in with promises of a kiss later. 

Inside was beautiful, purple and blue lights swinging low from a long-greyed ceiling, huge yellow holograms with all manner of languages on them- news, nunaball, flashes of the GAR-droids, the ones that present it. Then, even a flicker of your own face. A familiar beat begins thrumming ten steps into the bar.

Eva barks a laugh, hooking her pale green arm through yours, tugging you closer towards the bartender. She starts ordering shots in a rapid call, smiling politely at the droid behind it. You lean an elbow on the bright, turquoise counter, relishing in the sultry high notes of one of your latest tunes. Lirisa throws her arms around your waist, humming softly.

“Three.” Eva holds up her fingers. “Thank you.”

You flex your hands under the glow of a green-yellow menu. It’s fascinating, being suspended in a place like this and being able to take your eyes off the crowd for just a moment without being scared of being hustled. Eva touches your shoulder momentarily, her usual gesture of reassurance.

Your gaze slips from the bar- it’s fascinating, yes, but more fascinating are the similar faces flashing around you. Each one the same, but slightly different. Silver hair, shaved head, tattooed, long hair, dark hair, pale hair, wider smile, careful gaze. You wet your lips and catch the gaze of a trooper a few seats down.

He’s broad, like the rest of his brothers, but something else settles about him like a halo. Dominance, confidence. He’s got one cybernetic eye, too, but the gruffness of his expression as he moves from his seat has your eyes fixated.

Suddenly, you catch another gaze of another set of troopers some ways away.

Huddled in a booth, an entire squad is staring right at you. With a startled huff, you cross your legs, tugging gently on Lirisa’s leather sleeve.

“I think I’ve been made.”

“Where?” She looks over your shoulder, brown eyes searching against the near-darkness of the club. She raises an eyebrow, slowly. “Oh. Just troopers, it’s okay. They won’t bother you.” You frown, interlocking your fingers and moving, slowly, to lean awkwardly against the counter. Their gazes reside on your back, sticky like syrup, until someone speaks roughly at your side.

“You’re not a clone.” 

You turn, matching the gaze of the gruff man from before. A glance over his armour tells you nothing- great. He’s patched in a pale, unforgiving black, and he moves, tilting his body to rest on the countertop. 

“No,” you murmur. “I suppose I’m not.” Your fingers go immediately to your necklace, a thin chain of silver studded with transparent stones, to tug. It’s a habit. The trooper looks at you for a long moment, dark eye and silver eye roving until he smiles, a little. Something tells you smiling isn’t normally what he’s used to. “Is that a good thing?” A look through your lashes and a splutter of drink from Eva over your shoulder has you struggling to hold in a laugh. 

The man’s eyes flit to the screens, then back to you.

“Is that you?” You purse your lips, glancing at the hologram. “Nice.” Nothing else is added before he prepositions: “Want to dance?”

It’s only a moment after he offers his name, ‘Wolffe’, that you agree, letting him lead you to a writhing pack of men, clones and civvies, a few girls of all species. Your fingers thread through his and with a giggle, you sit your drink- a sunfruit cocktail- now finished, on an empty table. A rivulet of excitement ripples through your stomach when he tugs you firmly to his chest, roving a strong-fingered hand over the small of your back.

He asks a soft ‘this okay?’, but you’re too far flushed with music and finally, relaxation. You throw your arms around his neck and sway to the upbeat bass. A few more moments and your head drops back with a soft sigh, Wolffe’s fingers catching against the thin seam where the sheer material turns back into oil-slick silken fabric. Your breath hitches.

“Never did get your name,” he huffs, nose brushing yours. You sigh, smiling politely.

“They call me Sugarplum,” you murmur, letting his hands on your hips move you a little more vigorously to the disco-beat. Wolffe grins, wolfish, before flipping you around, a hand flattening against your stomach. 

The music continues, and you continue to let Wolffe roam his hands along your midriff until he’s heaving heavy breaths in your ear and becoming slowly less dancer-like. You had to admit, the clones seemed like they were lithe bands of silk ready to snap, but you were dying for a drink.

When the song starts to pulse out in favour of a quicker, sharper tone, you slide your hands against his and softly remove them.

“I need a drink,” you shout over the music. He swipes a hand over his sweat-stricken hair and nods, dropping himself into a booth. “Thanks for the dance.” You brush your lips against his cheek and dart through the crowd, desperately searching for a flicker of pink, or purple. Luckily, Lirisa’s still at the bar, pressed against it by someone in red armour, perhaps, but there nevertheless, and smiling, sober. “Liri and… friend.”

“This is Thire,” she calls, patting his hand. “Coruscant Guard.”

“Fancy.” You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide on his intentions when he gives the brightest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You feel your cheeks rush with heat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Plum,” Lirisa mutters. “How was your dance?”

“Oh, fine… you know me…”

“What, a prude?”

“No!” You bat her arm with a hiss. “Picky.” You flag down for another drink, dumping a pile of credits on the counter. Thire’s brows skyrocket, his face a portrait of shock when the droid picks through and takes only what’s needed. “Oh, I don’t know the prices…”

“That’s a lotta’ credits.”

Lirisa tilts his chin with one long, lavender finger and captures his mouth, eyes settling on you with a meaningful look. You swipe the credits up, dumping them back in the little silver shoulder bag she’s got on the counter. Oops.

You hear yourself in the speakers again.

“Huh. Whoever’s DJ-ing has nice taste.” Lirisa pulls away from Thire after a long moment, her lipstick a little smudged, but with a warm smile, Thire swipes it back into place. “Thank you, baby doll.” Thire darkens. “I’ve always liked ‘Popgloss’.” 

“It’s not my best,” you murmur, eyes fluttering with shyness. 

“This is you?” Thire asks, gesturing at the screen. You look at yourself, bearing a bright, fluorescent blue wig and matching lipstick. “That’s you?” He huffs a laugh of surprise. “Nice lipstick.”

“Thank her,” you reply, jabbing a thumb in the Theelin’s direction.

The droid slides a new drink over. You frown, staring at it. The glass is literally glowing, a white-ish liquid simmering inside. 

“Courtesy of the 501st, ma’am.” The droid trundles away and you stare at the bright blue liquid with a smile. 

“Boys in blue, huh?” Thire looks at the drink, then back at Liri with hooded eyes. “That looks like a mist-cocktail.” He turns, glancing over his shoulder towards where you’d seen the table staring at you. You follow his gaze, but only a few troopers remain. One of them raises a hand in a two-fingered salute, though. You smile coyly, waving in return. 

With a careful touch, you raise the glass to your mouth and take a sip. It’s warm, warm down to your toes, and tastes amazing.

“Tastes great,” you say, a little surprised. “I should go thank them.”

“No, you should leave them waiting, maybe they’ll come up to you!” You scowl, shaking your head. Another sip of your drink and you turn, walking swiftly towards the table where only three troopers remain out of what was a lot more. One with long hair, another with lines tattooed down his face, grinning roguishly, and the last with a buzzed, blonde cut. 

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the drink.” You fiddle with the draw, lashes fluttering of their own command. All three troopers are staring, two at your face, and the other quite firmly at your legs. “And, well… thank you for fighting. Your service,” you murmur, suddenly taken aback with shyness. Come on, superstar personality! Make your appearance.

The blonde grins.

“You’re welcome. On both counts.” His demeanour is remarkably similar to that of the Wolffe from earlier. Perhaps a Commander. “We’re quite enjoying your music tonight.” You chew idly on a thumb, smiling bashfully. “And we enjoyed Wolffe’s poor attempt at dancing.”

“Oh!” You snort. “He wasn’t that bad!” Eyes follow your hips as they turn, swaying back and forth as you try to plant yourself firmly and more confidently at one side of the round table. “Um, well, thank you anyway.”

“Thank you, Sugarplum.”

You make a wild getaway before you can embarrass yourself further or faint in the lap of the blonde, who was staring a little too sharply for your taste. The music seems to pulse louder with every step you get back to Lirisa, who is now firmly shoved against the counter and smothered by Thire’s mouth. Eva is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Eva?”

“She ran off with a Twi’lek lady.” 

You smile, huffing a chuckle of disbelief, leaning forwards to finish your drink in two more sips, when slowly, you notice a presence approaching you from the side.

Hands, well-defined, lined with veins and a few here-and-there scars, draw your attention like an industrial magnet. His skin is bronze, a dark, deep gold, like his brothers, but he plants his weight on the bar and clears his throat softly before speaking.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, dark. You swallow, hard, turning your head. He’s quite a face. He’s got quite a face- sorry, he’s… got quite a face. Right below his hairline, there’s a little ‘5’ tattoo, nestled there, inked in night-black. You take another sip of your drink for courage.

Alone, it’s easier.

“Hello.” Your voice is a little uneasy, but the trooper smiles, his eyes shining with politeness. Your eyes flutter shut when another one of your songs bursts through the speakers, but the trooper’s grin only grows.

“I’m not boring you, am I?” 

“No! No, sorry, I’m just… I don’t know.” His smile softens at the corners, less devilish, and he shifts his weight, spine arching with the movement. You let your gaze flicker along his lithe body, contained in blue-stained armour. ‘Boys in blue’, Thire had said. “Oh! You sent me the drink… it’s delicious.”

“Yeah? One of my favourites.” He moves a hand back through his dark hair, eyes ducking for a brief second, before meeting yours once more. You feel your chest swoop and you smile, wide, wider than usual. “Fives.” He offers a hand, a handshake, and you accept it, only for him to flip your wrist. His lips ghost your knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You can call me Plums,” you supply. “That’s what all my friends call me.”

“Friends?” A coy, cocked brow. Your chest flutters and you nod, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. You’ve probably got dark lipstick all over your teeth by this point, but the way Fives poses the question has you suddenly not-so-bothered. Lirisa’s knuckles jabs your spine twice, a signal. You’re pretty much alone now. She’d bring Thire back to her apartment, two floors under yours, and Eva was wherever that Twi’lek took her. “We like your music in the barracks.”

“Oh? Thank you,” you murmur, gazing into the bottom of your glass. “I wish you could all come to one of my concerts, that’s the only place I sound good sometimes. My studio stuff is a little-” 

He suddenly tilts your chin with the knuckle of his finger, still grinning brightly.

“Don’t want to lose my beautiful view.” You chew helplessly on your lip, chest releasing a sort-of sigh, more like a swooning hum. “And I like both. All of it. The boys were playing a couple clips of your concert today.”

“Really?” You fiddle with the stem of your glass, not letting your eyes drop from his face, chiselled and kind, warm. 

“Yeah. I like the pink, but if I’m honest, I like this blue on you even better.” He taps your lower arm, where the sleeve ends at your wrist. “We’re matching, see?” He gestures at his blue-painted armour. You suddenly smile, nerves dissipating. 

“Seems like we are.” A smile shared, and Fives shifts forwards. His fingers skim your waist as he signals the droid for another drink. “You want me drunk or something?”

“How many have you had?”

“I can handle another. For you.” He raises a brow, eyes suddenly narrowing with a wild grin. “I suppose.” You rest a hand against his chestplate and he huffs a noise of near-surprise, before taking your fingers in his. He brushes his mouth against them and thanks the droid when he appears with another mist-cocktail, no, two. “What are these even made from?”

“Good question,” he murmurs, taking a long sip of his. You stare at him, unabashedly, for a moment, watching the light flicker through his long lashes, then the twitch of his mouth when he realises you’re staring. “Something you like?”

“You have the most beautiful profile I’ve ever seen,” you gush, turning his head with the tips of your fingers, smiling. His breath comes out in a slow whirl when you slide a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “Like a statue. One of those ones on Naboo in the big fancy halls.”

“You callin’ me handsome?”

“I’m calling you more than that.” 

He takes another long drink of his cocktail and you follow, letting it warm your stomach. You glance at his blue armour, touching the lines of his arm.

“Boys in blue?”

“501st Legion.” He bows his head. “At your service, I’m certain. In fact, half the GAR will probably fall at your feet, princess.” You smile, sheepish. “Don’t be so unsure of yourself,” he murmurs, touching a curl of fallen hair at your temple.

“Who said I was unsure? Maybe I’m just faltering in the sheer radiance of your beauty.” Fives laughs, a low rumble in his chest, finishing his drink in one swallow. “501st… are you a Commander?”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“ARC-trooper. Advanced Recon Commando.”

“Oh? So… elite of the elite?” Fives’ eyes flutter, sliding over your features in one long, languid sweep. “Am I stroking your ego?”

“I’d much rather you stroke something else.”

You hum, head turning. You want to pretend the crude line has made you suddenly disgusted, but when he fastens a hand around your waist, you’d rather fall into him, onto him, onto him. He radiates energy. 

“Can you kiss me now?”

His eyes widen, at least a little, and he smiles, eyes lidded, gaze smokier than a Sullust sunrise.

“Can I kiss you? That can be arranged.”

Fives leans, capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. He tastes of cocktails and fruit and something else sharper, darker, but you don’t care. It’s suddenly rather hard to care as he brushes a thumb along your ribs and leans you back further. Your chest hisses a content sigh when he tilts your chin, pulls back, then takes your mouth a little harder. 

He’s soft as silk for a soldier with calloused hands, his touch careful, hesitant until you moan quietly into his mouth and he touches his tongue against the seam of your lips. You let your jaw open, and he slides his tongue along your teeth, grins, then groans when your hips cant into his. 

“Fives, do you want… do you want to come to my apartment?” He huffs, almost as if he can’t believe his luck, mouth shining with moisture. His head dips, claiming your lips once more like he’s got unfinished business there. 

His thumbs ripple over the creases in the dress at your hips, his index, middle, ring finger pressing into your ass, pulling you closer. He knows how to work himself, that’s for sure. You shudder, one hand threading into his hair, the other fastening firmly around his bicep like a vice. He slides his tongue into your mouth and sucks at your bottom lip with a chuckle. You muffle a choked whine, desire suddenly starting to yap at the gates like a feral beast. 

“Yeah…” he replies, finally, eyes fluttering to kiss you again, twice, three times.

There’s gazes on you from the boys in the booth, you know, you feel them, but you don’t take a chance at them until you can lean back for a cool breath of fresh air. They all sit there, slack-jawed, wide eyed.

“Your friends are looking at us,” you murmur, fingers digging into his upper arm.

“Let them look. They’re not the ones getting an eyeful of this masterpiece up close,” he hums, nosing along your jaw. “You should be painted.”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

“You’re the first one it’s true for.” You feel your heart thrum a little quicker, his fingers pressing hard into your ass, then relaxing. “You wanna call a cab?”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on,” you murmur. You’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit- than your ego would like to admit. Fives steals another cool kiss in the entrance to the club, greeting a few of his brothers in a language you don’t understand, before ushering you in his warm, huge hands, to the cab drop-off.  His arms suddenly hook around your waist and you sigh, softly, contently. 

After dialling in the address to your apartment, the cab takes only another long two minutes to show up, of which consists mainly of Fives drawing his tongue in teasing circles on your neck, and hot, heavy touches along your ribcage.

You step into the cab first, smiling politely to the driver, only to be pinned to the seat by a suddenly ravenous Fives. He pulls you up, over, onto his lap and keeps you there with a hand on your thigh.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, voice low, rough. “I want to be sure you want this.” A finger gestured between your chests and you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “What’re you laughin’ at?”

“How could it be possible anyone wouldn’t want you, Fives?” You tug gently at his roots, smoothing kisses on both of his cheeks with a coy smile.

“You haven’t met my brothers,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “They don’t want even to bet on me when we spar.” You sigh, stretching. “Do you normally do this?”

“Do what?” You ask, certain your eyes are probably blared with lust and something more primal, more dangerous. Fives smothers his face in your throat, nipping gently at your pulse, breath more of a growl now. “Invite handsome men back to my apartment? You should ask my friends.”

“The Theelin and the Mirialan?” You nod. 

“They think I’m quite picky, so nine out of ten nights end with me alone, eating ice cream and watching limmie.” Fives laughs, stroking a thumb over the crease of your knee. “So, you’re lucky.”

“Oh, yeah,” he growls, thumbing at your bottom lip with a grin. You take the digit into your mouth with a hum. “I’ve hit the jackpot.”

The cab stutters up to the dock at the very bottom of the apartment block, and it takes Fives a moment to stare up at the towering building before you can pay the driver and usher him into the doors. Islair, the Nikto receptionist, raises his hand in a polite wave, before doing a double take at the trooper on your arm. He still smiles, though, when you step into the lift.

“You aren’t afraid of heights?” You ask, when Fives leans against the metal bar on the opposite side of the half-glass lift. It slides smoothly through the building, leaving Coruscant more and more distant with every floor climbed.

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to the fiftieth floor.” You smile, fluttering your lashes, crooking your finger towards him. He crosses the lift, boots thudding against red carpet beneath your heeled feet, before shoving you roughly against the wall. His lips break your resolve as soon as he presses them against yours, tongue sliding through into your mouth with a hard groan. He shifts his hips against yours and hooks your wrists beside your head.

“You… we have to make sure there are boundaries.”

“You’d be surprised how much I can take, Fives.” He huffs, a low, gasp of a breath, fingers running up, below your dress. “How much can you give?” 

“You’re really riling me up, princess,” he whispers, voice sharp. “How long till your floor?” You glance at the numbers, ticking up through thirty.

“Not long, handsome,” you murmur, sliding the tips of your fingers down his stomach, along his codpiece, until he groans, planting two hands hard on either side of you He could almost bend the metal. “Relax.”

“Tell me to relax while you’re doing that?” He grumbles, smothering you in another rushed kiss when the lift pings, and the doors open. In one graceful swoop, he hauls you into his arms and waits for you to flick out your apartment key. You rustle through the black, studded purse in your hands and quickly draw it out, a shimmery, pearlescent card. 

“Apartment Three,” you whisper. Fives hurries along the carpeted hall, lowering you to your feet in front of a rather decadent black door, watching as you flick your card over the scanner. A soft, delirious scent of vanilla hits him right in the face when it opens, and he lets you tug him inside.

There’s a moment of silence.

“So, this is my apartment,” you mumble, feeling his presence creeping behind you. His hands snake around your middle, to the hem of your dress and up once more. He takes his time, like he’s standing in front of a painting at a gallery, pushing himself along your spine. You arch your back, sighing softly when he cups your breasts in his hands and kisses your throat, once, twice. “You don’t care…”

“Nice place.” Is all he manages, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, hardened against the silk of your underwear, underneath your dress, but he knows- he grins, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” You turn, fiddling with the latches of his armour pieces, kneeling on the cool wood of the ground. His throats jumps, but you ignore it, finely, too, as you release the rest of his white and blue protection onto the floor. “There. All done.”

“Uh, uh,” he calls, wrapping a hand around your wrist when you try to escape. Your breath hitches. Your back hits against his chest. “Your turn, princess.” His fingers play with the hem of your dress, spreading out along the warmth of your thighs. 

“Zip.” He leans back, moving a hand to slowly drag the zip along your spine. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your throat. “Beautiful girl.” You exhale, sharply, shifting the dress from your arms with a wriggle. “Fuckin’ Maker,” he huffs, reaching forrwards to skim his thumbs over your bare skin. You’re suddenly quite happy you wore the black, slightly sexy underwear rather than the black, completely mismatched pair you were rushing for a few hours earlier. 

“You like it?”

“Who were you planning to snag at the club? Wolffe wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with you. He’s hard on the outside, soft on the inside.” Fives smooths the pads of his thumbs across your breasts, nipples hardened in the cups of your bra, before lowering his mouth to the crevice between them. He runs his tongue, slowly, carefully, along the cool silk of your skin. “Fox, maybe. No… no, he’d finish and kick you out. Rex? My Captain? My brother?” You gasp, cupping his face between your hands. “No. Too soft. Too slow.” 

“What are you trying to say, Fives?”

“That I’m the brother for you.” You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck. “I promise, I promise from the bottom of my heart… I am the clone for you.” He offers a goofy smile.

“I trust you, Fives,” you whisper, brushing his nose with yours. “Do you still want to try it, though?” You stroke a finger down the nape of his neck. “Figure out whether I’m the woman for you?” He tucks an arm below your hips and hauls you up, up into the air. 

“I already know.”

“You don’t even know my favourite colour… my favourite flavour of ice cream, my favourite meal!”

“All in good time. For now,” he busts open a door at random. “Good choice.” It’s the bedroom. A wide bed, perfect for ignoring alarms, and what seems to be, to Fives, a good throwing range. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you bounce, just a little, watching him from the head of the bed. “Comfortable, too.”

“Come here,” you call, springing onto your knees. Fives reaches over his head and tugs in one mighty pull, his shirt off. You swallow, dry-mouthed, when he displays deep bronze skin, six lines of ridged muscle, broad arms, broader shoulders. His grin grows. 

“You like what you-”

“Yes.” You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back onto the bed, hauling him below you. Bare skin against bare skin, you tremble with every hot, silky-smooth touch he ghosts up your legs, over your knees, along the curve of your spine. You shift your hips against him, pressing purposely along the velvet length hidden in his blacks. Your fingers splay against his chest, sliding along his stomach, into the waistband of his trousers.

A husky gasp and a growl when your fingertips fuss through the downy triangle of hair at the very centre of those defined lines of muscle, a perfect V. He thrusts his hips up, planting himself at an angle on his elbows. You grin, wrapping a hand around his cock.

It’s broad, long, big enough to make you wince, and hot to the touch. You sweep a thumb over the tip, wetness pooling there somewhere, a drop, more than that, a rivulet running along the underside of the head. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” You smile, capturing Fives in a hard, rough kiss. His teeth clack against yours, but he doesn’t care, all he seems to care about is keeping that pressure on his dick and keeping you right there, beside him. “Oh, Maker.” 

“That feel good, soldier?”

“Pull rank on me and I’ll cum in your hand right now.” He grins. You sigh, tapping your chin with your free hand. 

“What comes next, I wonder?” Fives growls, tossing you on your back in one hard motion. He kicks off his pants, exposing bulking, heavy thighs corded with muscle and a long, thick cock. You grin, going to crawl forwards, but Fives presses you to the bed with a hand. 

“No, no. Just stay there.” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties. They’re lace and silk, elegant, and he tugs them down, slowly. “You’re beautiful.” You feel your body flush, Fives’ breath quickening against your stomach, your knees, the apex of your thighs, before he presses his mouth into your heat. 

“Oh, Gods, give a little warning next time-” He squeezes the skin of your right thigh with a sigh, running his tongue up the liquid warmth between your legs, between your folds, along the petal-pink flesh, wet with desire. “Fives.”

“You’re sweeter than sugar, princess. Sweeter than anything.” He taps your hips and pins them into the bed, nose brushing your clit with dangerous precision. “So pretty, soft.” His tongue thrusts into you, gathering your slickness in one long motion. He moves his fingers slowly, carefully, along your skin, rubbing one against your entrance in a wolfish, evil way. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hm?” Fives croons, biting softly at the skin of your thigh. “You say something?” He hums, licking his lips before shoving his face back between your legs. With the quick shift of his head, his finger eases into you, slowly, carefully. You groan, pushing your hand through his hair. His tongue is teasing at your clit, his finger shifting delicately inside you, slower than anything, but electrifyingly so. 

“Fives, you tease,” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Stop playing around.”

“You’re asking me to stop playing around?” He adds a second finger, stretching you to the knuckle. You hiss, a hand latching around his upper bicep like a vice. Fives grins. He pecks you twice on the hipbone, then returns his attention to between your legs. “I’m quite enjoying playing around.”

“You’re being a tease. I’d much rather give you attention- ah, fuck, fuck- too. Please,” you hiss, eyes shuddering back as he coaxes the oncomings of an orgasm out of you. A grin against your skin- you feel it. His teeth graze your skin, then his mouth latches onto you once more. Liquid heat burns through your gut, coiling you tight. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, pretty girl, give it to me.” He flicks his tongue over your clit. “Give it to me, Sugarplum. You got it, baby.” 

You choke on a moan as your orgasm snatches you away. It’s a thrumming feeling, a wheeze that escapes through your lungs and burns you hot inside out. A grin spreads onto your face, your skin is vibrating, shivering under the still-relentless touch of Fives between your legs. He eases up onto the bed, then, smoothing your breasts into his hands.

“Perfect tits,” he whispers.

“How do you want me?” You ask, breathless, eyes still spotty-white from the blinding climax rushing between your legs, rendering you twitching, shaking. 

“Get on your back for me?” He asks, pinching a nipple between two deft fingers. You keen, shuffling beneath him. Your hand snakes between his leg and slowly strokes his cock, carefully, quietly. Fives groans, capturing your mouth with his. A moan is lost into his tongue, wetting your lips then moving against them once more. He’s a battering ram- no mercy, a perfect soldier. 

“Fucking hell, Fives,” you whisper, raking nails over his scalp. He moans. You feel your stomach drop to your feet. “You like that?” He nods, parting your legs with two rough, callused hands. Your fingers pull hard at his hair and he whines, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, sliding his hand between your legs once more. He plays with your clit, your hand around his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he rasps, nipping at your bottom lip. You let go of him, reaching up to slide your arms along the hot, hard planes of his back. Fives stares at you, just for a moment, eyes dark like smoke, before he grips himself and pushes against you. “Slow?”

“Whatever you want,” you whisper, mouth cracking open when he impales you carefully in one liquid thrust. “Oh, shit. Now is probably a good time to tell you I’m on suppressors.” Fives tries to speak, but his words are lost in a broken groan into the hot crook of your neck. Your nails push crescent moons into his shoulders, letting him stretch you carefully along his generous length. “Are you all your brothers… this big?”

Fives huffs a laugh, nose brushing your pulse.

“Weird question.”

“Yeah,” you gasp, fanning your face with a hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” You stifle a moan between your fingers, eyes ducking back into your head. “Fuck, fuck, Fives, just a little quicker.”

“Quicker?” His hips snap against yours with a sharpness you haven’t felt before. Your chest drops out, but he continues, thumbs digging into your hips when he tilts you upwards, finding the best angle. His fingers slide beneath the small of your back to suspend you there, perfect for his ruin, when he brushes his mouth over your nipple and ruts firmly into you. “That, ah- that better?”

“Hm, yeah, yes.” You slide a hand into the hair at the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slipping open with every thrust of his hips, every shift of his cock inside you. “Yeah, baby, that’s better.” You scratch gentle nails over his back, admiring his warmth, before tugging carefully at his hair. He groans, pinning you into the bed.

Your eyes slide shut. Stars begin to speck behind them and you think he knows by the breathless laugh against your throat, then the broken moan into your jaw, your mouth. He tongues your mouth gently, bruising your lips swollen with the fervent touches. 

“Fives-”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Touch me, just a little more,” you plead, nose brushes his as he pecks you once more, thumbing your right nipple, then finding your clit beneath a rough finger. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You like that, pretty girl?” He huffs, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Gods, yes, please!” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Fives’ eyes disappear beneath his eyelids, his chest rumbling with soft, persistent groans every other thrust. You whine, pulling at his hair, scratching at his back. 

“You’re a little… fuckin’... ah, keep pullin’.” You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair, kissing him twice on the mouth, once on the jaw, angling his head as you see fit. “Yeah, baby, that’s right. Tight little pussy.”

He squeezes your waist with one hand, still flicking at your clit with the other hand, desperate to chase your orgasm out of you, and it works, he gives you one in moments. You stiffen, back arching, fisting a hand in the sheets, the other smoothing over his neck. Your moan echoes in your bedroom, and Fives eggs you on with gentle praise.

“Good girl, yeah, keep… fuck,” he wheezes, hiding his face in your shoulder. His arms are so tight. “Can I move you?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you whisper, letting him shift you into a lower position, where he impales you so suddenly your breath hitches and you shriek, turning into a whimpering mess. “Oh, that’s so good!”

“That’s good?” He breaths, pupils almost completely lost in black-brown irises.

“Yes, Fives, it’s good,” you whisper, smothering your mouth against his with a giggle, a grin, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He grunts, releasing your clit to roll a nipple between finger and thumb. You hiss sharply against him, forcing your heels into his back to push him deeper, harder. “Harder, baby, please.”

He quickens his pace, the bed shaking a little under his force.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Sweet angel,” he reaffirms. “Heaven sent.” His fingers wrap around your free wrist, pinning it against the silken sheets below your head. Your back arches with the pressure, a grin spreading along your face. “Fuckin’ hell, I’m gonna cum.” 

You hiss when he touches your clit, so eager, so painlessly prepared to give you what you want- another orgasm, more pleasure, anything. He coaxes it out of you, another climax, relishing in your writhing against him, your low whine in his ear, the shiver that follows, the sweat that slicks him head to toe. 

“Fuck!” You cry, shuddering back into the sheets.

Fives’ hips falter, his eyes scrunching shut, his groans lower, deeper, until you wind a hand into his hair and kiss him once more, and his thrusts pause.

“Inside?”

“Yeah.”

He finishes, coating you with one hard grunt, a sharp sigh, his eyes finally opening to find yours, a grin eventually appearing on his tired features. You let him fill you, for a moment more, before he pulls away a little.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pulling out. You huff at the cool touch of air against the wetness sinking deep into your skin, and watch him do a quick double-take around the room for the bathroom. With a snort, you point at the door on the left. He punches the release and wanders in, clattering around.

“Under the sink, baby.”

“Yeah! I got it,” he calls, reappearing after the tap runs for a moment. He kneels between your legs and gently, softly, wipes the warm cloth over you until he’s satisfied you’re cleaned up well enough. “There, princess.”

“Thanks.” 

He disappears back into the bathroom, and a wet slap suggests he’s just tossed the rag into the bath tub. An muffled ‘oops’ and there’s another sound of running water. 

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, darting from the bed to snatch up his long-sleeve top. It had the Republic branded right in the middle, grey against the black, and you snuggle into it, sliding your arms into too-big sleeves. Fives reappears after a moment and grins, crooking a finger towards your shrouded form.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, quietly, sincerely. “I’m assuming ‘no’ since you’ve stolen my shirt,” he hums.

“No, stay, please.” You usher him towards the bed, hands on his ass. You squeeze once with a snort and toss his trousers at him. He eases himself into them and pulls you into his chest. 

“Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” Fives grins, craning his neck to kiss you softly on the mouth, the nose, the forehead. You stare helplessly at him, your heart suddenly quite warm, and collapse onto the bed. “Come sleep.” You pat the space beside you and watch as he slides himself in. “Never had a double?” His look of confusion is an easy tell.

“Nope.”

“Comfy?”

He turns, half buried in thick duvet and silk sheets. You can barely make out his nod but slide down beside him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He’s like a furnace- probably going to irritate you later in the night- but you relax against his chest.

“‘Night.”

“G’night, pretty baby.”

*

for the bbs always: @thegoodbatch @djangofetts​ @jangohshit​ @queenofheavenandhell​